Envy A Love Like Yours
by Spencebox
Summary: Elio and Oliver. Armie and Timothée Collection of One-Shots of both Elio/Oliver and Timothée/Armie.
1. Texas Heat Between The Sheets

Armie lived in Texas, a place which Timothée later found out was a complete 180 of New York. The heat of Texas was horrendous, and it was humid beyond belief, meaning your skin was always covered in a sheen thin of sweat that was revolting and caused you to take a shower every morning, noon and night. Though the people were kind and the food was massive, it was nothing like his home in Hell's Kitchen. He missed the snow and the busy streets at every hour of the day, and he wished he was eating at his favorite hot dog place just down the street at midnight. But if seeing Armie again was staying in Texas for a bit, then Timothee was staying in Texas.

"It really isn't that bad once you get used to it, and besides, you're wearing too many clothes. Do you see me Timmy? This is the way a smart Texan looks in his home. You, on the other hand, look like a melting popsicle."

Armie and Timothée were sitting in Armie's home, on his couch, watching some weird cooking show for recipes that used just short of ten pounds of butter. And Timothee was sweating from head to toe, the area behind his ears was soaked with sweat and he wanted to rip off his deep black distressed jeans. He licked his lips, removing the sweat from his upper lip, and looked to Armie. He, on the other hand, was clad in just his yellow Polk dot boxers, nothing else covering his bronze figure. And the boxers left nothing to the imagination, meaning Timothée could make out the outline of the man's large cock, resting on his thigh.

He swallowed and his legs clamped shut, trying to not even think about a barely dressed sweaty man just a few inches away from him. But it seemed he was being tested for those golden long arms reached other and went to were his jeans met his shirt, nimble fingers gripped the hem and pulled up, up and over his head, leaving his top bared to Armie's searching eyes. He smiled at him and stood, a bit of confidence entering his blood stream and prompting him to undo the button of his jeans and bend to roll them down his legs, making sure to give Armie a show. He could feel the stare on his ass and smiled, stepping out of the jeans and moving back to his seat, clad in blue silk boxers.

The show went on, the woman now talking about how using milk instead of water in a boxed cake adds more flavor for your buck. Timothee looked to Armie and saw he was still staring, the jump in his boxer clad cock was caught by Timothée. They're gaze held, the tv was merely noise to them and Timothee made the first movie.

His slim pale hand slowly reached up to his mouth and a finger slipped in, warm saliva coating the appendage and when it was pulled away, a string of spit kept them connected. The wet finger started at his prominent collar bone, trailing down, down, down to his small petite nipples, circling it till it was coated in wetness. He moved to the next one, loving the way Armie's eyes followed his every movement. There was a fierce hunger in his eyes that sent shivers down his spine, knowing he was awakening something primal in the man next to him.

A deep urge to feel that hunger prompted his finger to move down his skinny chest to the hem of his boxers. Eyes still locked together he moved his hand into the confined area, gripping his hardening cock and jerking it, eyes never leaving Armie's. His head fell back in pleasure, pre-cum slipping down his hand and he hoped Armie was going to act soon.

And his prayers were answered when the large man shot forward, lips pressing against Timothée's, prompting a squeak to leave his lips, though it quickly turned into a moan when his lips was bitten hard enough to hurt. The hand in his boxers was ripped out, and his boxers were gripped and ripped in two, the strength that Armie held in his large hands erotic and frightening all at the same time. The ripped material was thrown over the back on the couch and his slim thighs were gripped in rough hands. The soft lips had left his own and moved to his ear. "Do you have any idea how crazy you make me? I've been holding back since Crema and now you decide you want me to?"

Timothée nodded and let out a moan when the grip on his thighs tightened. The pain and pleasure were crossing lines in his mind and were causing him to feel all new forms of pleasure.

Armie moved to his long supple neck and bit down, holding his teeth in the skin, making sure it would leave a mark that people would see. He wanted to mark the pale body as if it was a canvas, ready to be filled with variations of blue and red. Armie ground his now hard cock into the smaller boy and loved the contrast that they had, the boy so much smaller than him, yet it was everything Armie wanted. He wanted to watch the boy come undone by his hand, his cock, his very being. And this would not be that last time. He would take every chance he had to ruin, to worship, to tear apart the boy writhing underneath him.

He moved away from Timothée , sitting down next to his sprawled form and rubbing his cock until it was pointing to the ceiling. Timothée , still naked and trying to catch his breath, rose an eyebrow at Armie. And he received an eyebrow raise in return. He rose onto his knees and knee-walked to Armie, throwing one leg over the man's two monstrous thighs, the sheer size of them were three time the size of his own. They looked at one another and breathed deeply, cocks almost touching, as if reaching out to each other.

Timothée moved first this time, long fingers gripping Armie's thick cock, and moving his hand up and down in slow motions, loving the dark hungry look in the mans eyes. It spurred Timothée to move faster, the words "Timmy, Timmy, Timmy," leaving Armie's lips in hurried pants. This went on for a few minutes, Timothée in Armie's lap, rubbing his hard cock. The boys other hand moved and gripped his own cock and moved it in tandem with his other one, wanting them to reach their release together.

Armie's muscled arm moved with speed, stopping Timothée's movements in one fluid stop and instead taking their lovemaking to another level, using both of his hands to grip the boy's boney pale hips and lift him straight onto his red tipped erection. They let out loud moans together, the overwhelming feeling of being connected caused Timothee to see stars behind his eyes and Armie was on another planet.

He was in a word of pleasure, the boy he held such deep affection was in his lap, on his cock, moaning his name, or at least he would be. He had called Timmy to Texas to see him because he missed holding the boy in arms like he did in Crema, or having their lips fighting for dominance at odd hours of the day. He wanted to feel the slim hips of Timmy, hear his awkward laugh and smell his raven locks.A deep possessiveness lived in his heart and it craved the smaller boy, a need to protect and love, and some timers it was so strong it scared the man. Did Timmy feel the same way? Did he even see how he felt about him? Would he accept him?

The answered to these questions lied with the boy riding his cock on his lap, moaning with fervor as his insides were turned inside out. The cock in him was making him feel powerful and powerless in all the right ways, as if he had no control over his body, but all the control over the older man's. It was a euphoria that he hoped never left. And if it did, then he would ride this man until he had his fill.

Timothée bounced on the cock in his ass, moaning when it pressed all the right buttons to turn his body into mush beneath the man's hands. The hands were gripping his hips, deep indents were left on his skin under the strong fingers, and the contrast of the bruises was that of a masterpiece of Armie's creation Timothee's hands gripped Armie's wide shoulders, fingernails making sure to leave their own marks, so they would both have battle scars.

They moved in tandem, Armie slamming up, balls deep, just as Timothée would slam down onto the relentless cock that was giving him more pleasure than his hand or any other girl could give his body. He was made for the tall man fucking him, made to be fucked by him, made to be loved by hands.

They climaxed in unison, Armie yelling as his release shot into Timothee's willing body, and Timothee shooting his release across Armie's chest. Timothée leaned back, head thrown back and hair hanging limp and wet, and Armie took advantage of that supple neck, licking the sweet and salty skin and biting, as he had done to the other side. Timothée was helpless, trapped in the cage of the older mans arms, nothing to do but let himself be claimed by the man he had just ridden to completion;.

Their hearts had calmed down now, their breaths returning to normal and the two men stared at each other, silently asking where they went from there. Would they act like it never happened and move on with their lives? These thoughts plagued the young boys mind, tears coming to his eyes that fell to fast for him to catch.

Worried hands cupped his cheeks and his tears fell from his eyes as his eyes met Armie's. "Hey, Hey, Hey , Timmy."

"Timmy, Timmy, Timmy."

Armie's eyebrow quirked at the words that left the boys mouth, wondering why he would say his own name. The realization hit him like a comet and he kissed away the fallen tears, eyelids, cheeks and lips included.

"Armie, Armie, Armie" The words were just enough for both of them to meet in a love filled kiss that held uncertain future in it's grasp. But maybe, just maybe, they could face the it together.

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	2. Yes, Sir

"Does anyone have any questions? Your test is on Monday, and if you got lower than a 75 on the quiz then come see me and have a good weekend!"

They students filtered out of the hall, most whispering to each other, gossiping about the parties they would going to and the friends they would see. The Professor looked up, smiling at the sight of the last student, Elio, still in the room. His head was down, his test in front of him on his desk. The Professor smiled to himself and walked to the door, locking it and covering the window with a piece of paper for a school event.

His voice bellowed through the room, "Come here Elio."

Elio flinched, knowing he had disappointed the professor, knowing he would punished. He pushed back his chair, legs scraping against the tiled floor, and stood. He walked slow, dragging his feet, until it he stood in front of the larger man. He handed him the paper, waiting. When nothing happened , he looked up.

"Professor-"

The larger man's hand shot out, gripping the boys plump cheeks in his large hand. His grip wasn't painful, but enough of a warning to Elio to not speak unless spoken to.

"Have you forgotten what I want to be called? One weekend without me and you already forget the rules." Elio nodded as best as he could with his face still in his hands, a saddened look in his eyes..

"I'm sorry Oliver."His voice came out quiet and sounded mushed, Oliver still having not let go of his cheeks.

"That's better sweetie." Oliver bent down, kissing Elio's forehead, releasing his cheeks. He sighed as he took the test from him, looking at the red 64 at the top of the paper. He shook his head, laying it flat on the desk.

"Bend over." Elio's eyes widened as he heard Oliver's words. He knelt over Oliver's desk, cheek plastered against the smooth wood. Oliver stood behind him, rubbing his hand over the boys jean covered ass. He loved when Elio were these jeans, they were equivalent to mom jeans, he pulled them up over his hips with every step, trying to prevent them from falling. He took one hand and gripped the back of the jeans, sliding them down his small supple hips, loving the sight of the pale bare ass in font of him. He gripped both cheeks, squeezing them in his large hands. He loved the gasp that emitted from Elio.

"Tell me what you did, why you're being punished." He heard Elio sniffle.

"I didn't study for my test and I disappointed you."

"Good job Elio. You get five for not studying and ten for disappointing me."

He stepped back from Elio and caressed his right ass cheek, promptly moving his hand away, only to smack the cheek, loving the way it jiggled. He continued this rhythm, caress then smack, giving Elio fifteen smacks in total. He felt Elio flinch every time, but still continued, knowing Elio needed this as much as he did. He did the last smack and immediately lifted Elio up, holding the boy in his arms and whispering sweet nothings. He held him for a few moments, rubbing Elio's back.

"Do you feel better?" He felt Elio nod into his chest, loving the dark curls rubbing under his chin. Oliver didn't like punishing Elio, hating the tears that threatened to fall as they glistened on the waterline of his eyes. He liked when he smiled, skin next to his eye crinkling, pearly white teeth revealing themselves from his pink lips, he preferred that Elio to the one that needed a punishment.

He pulled himself away from Elio, hand snaking between them to lift the younger boys chin. He helped Elio pick up his jeans and lid them back up. He leant down, kissing the smooth skin of his forehead, his wet lips moisturizing the bare flesh. He felt the intake of breath in Elio's chest and smiled.

"You okay?" He looked into Elio's eyes as he asked, searching for a sign of weakness.

Elio nodded his head, a small smile on his lips. "Me Okay."

"Professor! Are you still there? I have a question about the study guide!" Elio jumped at the sound of Marzia's voice outside the classroom, looking to Oliver with wide eyes, though the smirk he saw on Oliver's face made his eyebrows raise.

"Get under the desk and don't make a sound." Elio's eyes shot to the desk, then back to Oliver. He moved over to the desk, then to the opening that held the chair that Oliver never really used. He pulled the chair out and squished his body under the desk, his head looking at the wall behind the large ornate structure.

"Come in!" Oliver walked to his desk and plopped in his chair, sliding forwards, knees sliding Elio into the desk even more. Marzia walked in, loose dark brown curls cascading own her shoulders. She was clad in a yellow tank with jean overalls, feet covered in comfy looking van. She looked positively adorable, full of sunshine and daisies.

Oliver hated Marzia.

She was best friends with Elio, his Elio, and she had lusted after his Elio for too long. Only an idiot, or Elio himself, would not see the way she looks at him. It took all his strength to not yell at her when he was teaching, she would whisper and giggle at Elio when he was giving important lectures. But he was still a Professor above all else, so he would help her.

"What can I do for you Marzia?" His smile grow wider when he felt Elio rest his head on his thigh. His hand sneaked under the desk, crushing the fluffy curls in his palms.

"Hey Professor, I was just wondering if you had an extra study guide, Elio lost his and probably forgot to ask you for another one." Oliver's smile grew tight and his hand drifted to the zipper of his pants. He slowly zipped it down, letting his cock flop out and almost hit Elio in the face. His hand gripped his cock and he touched what he thought was Elio's lips, smiling when a warm mouth engulfed the cock head. He let go of his cock to grip Elio's curls, forcing his head to take him deeper.

"That's very nice of you Marzia. You're such a good friend to Elio," He pushed Elio down till he could feel the back of his throat, " Because that's all you two are right? Friends?"

Marzia gave him an uncertain smile, a crease at her eyebrows, "Just friends for now Professor. If you could send him the study guide I'd appreciate it, I need to run to my next class. See you Monday!" She turned and left, just missing Oliver throwing her an angry look.

The door closed behind her and Oliver stood, hard cock hanging out of the fly in his pants, not righting himself as he walked to lock the door. Elio slowly got out from under the desk, saliva coating his check and around his mouth. He padded over to Oliver and hugged his back.

"Will you always be mine Elio? Or will I loose you to pretty girls in vibrant tops?" He turned in Elio's arms, gazing into the younger man's mesmerizing eyes.

"I'd die before I left you Oliver. You know that." They kissed, more passion than possession.

"Take off the rest of the day, come back with me." Elio opened his mouth to dispute, but knew look in Oliver's eyes stopped any complaint. He nodded and Oliver smiled.

Moans and the slap of skin on skin echoed through the bedroom.

It had started in the kitchen, Oliver chasing Elio's lips as the he tried to cook, Elio ending up bent over the granite counter with Oliver behind him, sweat dripping down his forehead as he pounded into the smaller boy, having the looked of desperation and hunger in his eyes. Oliver had told him not to cum but he had, shooting his cum down onto the hard floors, Oliver in turn flooding his hole with his pearly seed.

Oliver had carried Elio to the bedroom, another punishment already at the front of his mind. Oliver had tied Elio to the bed, ropes holding his arms to the headboard and a blindfold over his eyes.

"You're mine Elio, and you've been **bad**." His voice turned into a growl as he bit at Elio's collarbone, loving the arch of the skinny chest he felt pressed against his own. His head moved back, licking at the dark purple marks over that delicious protruding bone. He kissed his way to Elio's nipples, rubbing each one between his thumb and forefinger till they were bright red. Moving downwards, he nipped at bare skin and kissed his ribs, and he smiled at the squeal when his tongue dipped into his belly button.

He complete bypassed Elio's aching cock, instead stuffing his face in Elio's hole, licking his own seed that he had previously shot in. He moved away fairly quickly, lifting Elio's legs over his shoulders and sliding his cock in, a moan leaving his lips as he was engulfed in the warm heat once more.

He held himself balls deep, twisting his hips and smirking at Elio's broken cries. His body bent forward, face over his younger lovers.

"What if I were to stop, leave you like this? A desperate whore, needy for my cock. I can give you everything you need Elio," His hips somehow drove him deeper, "I'm all you need." He ripped off Elio's blindfold, wanting to look into his eyes. Elio looked at Oliver's teary eyed face, and smiled, tears in his own eyes.

"You'll kill me if you stop." He surged forward as much as he could, his wet bitten lips fighting against Oliver dry ones. He could've pounded into the boy, show him how much he owned him and wanted him, but instead Oliver slowly moved his hips back and forth, holding Elio's gaze. They came together, Oliver swallowing Elio's moans, wishing he could hear them forever.

They basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Oliver rubbing Elio's cheek.

"You know I love you right? Probably more than you love me…"

Oliver scoffed.

"Loving you as much as I do is impossible, you hold my heart Elio. You always will." Elio smiled and kissed him lips moving as one.

"Though I do wish you would study for your tests more."

Elio laughed and sat up, grabbing a pillow and hitting Oliver in the chest, love and mirth shining in their eyes as they held each other's gaze.


	3. Heaven

Oliver shot awake, hand moving to his bedside, eyebrows furrowing when he felt only sheets in the shape of his missing husband. He sat up, hand rubbing through the sleep in his eyes and smoothing back his ruffled hair. He'd had that nightmare again, the one where he woke up in the arms of anyone but the one he wanted. It had been a recurring nightmare, but Elio usually made them go away.

He stood, covers falling onto the floor, bare feet padding to the door. He was naked, it was a good thing they were alone in the big house, there was no such thing as modesty if there is no one else there. He rubbed his cheek as he walked down the hallways, looking in the empty rooms, trying to see where Elio had gotten to. He found himself in the living room, still no sign of Elio. His last resort was the kitchen, which is exactly where he found him.

Elio was sitting on the table, chest bare, only a robe covering his shoulders and hiding his hips from Oliver's sight. He was eating a pint of ice cream, Cherry Garcia was their favorite, and his eyes were closed in food heaven, though they opened when Oliver walked in.

"What're you doing up?" Elio took another spoonful into his mouth as he spoke, more cherry concoction sliding down his throat. Oliver moved forward with precision, that of a tiger cornering his prey. He stoped in front of Elio, smirking at him.

"I can't sleep without you by my side, I thought you knew that…."

"You looked perfectly cozy when I got up for a midnight snack." He smiled as he ate another spoonful. He held out the spoon to Oliver, drops of melted cream sliding down and landing on his chest.

"Oops." He smiled and he leaned down, tongue poking out to lick at the drops, leaving the skin as clean as when he started. Oliver chuckled and kissed Elio's forehead.

"You insist on defying me Elio. What should I do about that?" Oliver's eyebrows furrowed in thought, though he was merely concentrated on Elio's delicious collarbones. He leaned forward, taking the bone between his teeth and biting down, making sure to leave a mark. He loved when he marked Elio, it seriously be considered his favorite past time. Some people like football, he likes biting collarbones.

"You're just as bad as when I first met you."

"Like you were any better." Oliver gave an open mouthed smile to Elio.

"Oliver will see you now."

Elio stood up, straightening out his clothes and patting down his curls. He smiled at the blonde woman, Cynthia is what her name tag said, and followed her past the desk he had signed in at. They stopped at a tall set of doors, Cynthia holding her hand out before waking away.

He took a deep breath, air shooting out his nose as he tried to get his nerves in check. He pushed the door open, one foot stepping in, the other getting caught on the floor, the result being him sprawled on the office floor.

"Are you okay?" He looked up and nearly died.

Oliver was the type of man that lived solely in fitness magazines and flitted around parties that Elio could never dream of affording. He nodded at Oliver's worried face, taking the offered hand, trying not to marvel at the size difference. He was pulled up and fell against a hard chiseled chest, a red blush covering his cheeks as he felt his body respond to Olivers. He pulled away, trying to hid his blush as he offered Oliver his hand.

"I could've sworn I was expecting a Marzia, but for all I know that could be you."

"No, no, I'm Elio. Marzia is my roomate but she's sick, she asked me to do the interview for her, if that's not a problem for you Mr.-"

"Just Oliver is fine. And sure, I wouldn't want to disappoint Marzia. Now sit. Please." Elio nodded and fluttered to the royal blue couch, sitting down, back as straight as a rod. Oliver, instead of being a normal person and sitting at his desk or the couch, learned against his desk, eyes trained on Elio.

Elio cleared his throat. "You ready?"

"Shoot."

He looked down at his paper, wishing he wasn't so nervous.

"Who do you credit to your fame? Family? Friends? Significant Other?"

"I credit my fame to myself." A bit arrogant but Elio still wrote down the answer, stopping when Oliver continued.

"My parents didn't like the man I'd become, my…. Sexual practices were too much for my mother and my friends only wanted my money."

Elio choked out the question, "Sexual practices?"

Oliver rose an eyebrow at Elio, "I'm gay Elio. Is that going to be an issue?"

Elio's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "Oh god no, no, no that's fine ,that's great actually, that-that's cool." His hand shook as he wrote down Oliver's answer, he could feel his stare, almost like a sniper trained on his forehead. Oliver stood and sauntered around the couch until he stood behind Elio's sitting form.

"I thrive in control Elio. I take control," Oliver's hand rested on Elio's shoulder, "of everything I do."

The rest of the interview was full of tension, though Elio didn't know which kind. He just wanted to get somewhere that he could pull off his pants and jack off to thoughts of Oliver doing so many things to him. He could feel his cock starting to tent his pants, but used his notebook to hide it.

"And we're done, thank you Oliver, Marzia will be so pleased." Elio stood up and offered his hand to Oliver, trying to give his best smile when the larger man's hand enveloped his. They shook once, twice, then Oliver walked him to the elevator, hand on his lower back.

They stopped at the elevator, though neither pressed the button. The reception area was empty, it was just Elio and Oliver. They were facing each other, though Oliver was a head taller than Elio. They just stared at each other, neither being the first to move. Though when Elio tried to turn around, Oliver moved.

His large hand, fingers that were twice the length of Elio's and held twice the strength, gripped Elio's cock, right through his pants, holding him in a cupping motion that offered no escape.

Elio didn't move.

"Am I offending you?"

Elio's hand slowly moved to press the down button on the elevator, thankful that the doors opened behind him because he knew that if he didn't get away from Oliver then he would climb the man like a tree. He stepped in, waiting for the doors to close. He was about to bid him a farewell, when Oliver beat him to it.

"Oliver."

What? What kind of arrogant ass said they're own name when saying goodbye, typically you said the other person's name but with how rich Oliver was it was assumed he could do whatever he wanted. What a dick. His mouth set in a tight line when Oliver spoke again.

"Oliver."

Two could play at this game.

"Elio."

Oliver's eyes bugged out as the doors closed, taking Elio away from his gaze, and any control he thought he had.

"But I knew I was bad. You thought you were this innocent little schoolboy, but I could see right through that little act. You wanted me just as much as I wanted you."

Elio smiled as he leaned forward to kiss Elio's sweet tasting lips, their tongues curling around one another. They pulled away, Elio eating another spoonful.

"Do you remember when I first told you I loved you?" He laughed at Oliver's raised eyebrow. "Okay well more less that I really want you."

"What're you doing here Elio?"

Elio had run there from his last class, the anxiety of having to tell Oliver tearing him apart. He had to tell him, had to let Oliver know how he felt, had to at least try.

"I just wanna talk.'

"Then talk."

Elio sighed. "I just, I just don't know how to say this, I thought I did, I usually do but I'm just…" He took a deep breath. "I think I know what we both need to hear."

"Is there anything you don't know?" Oliver swirled around his glass of scotch, refusing to look at Elio.

"I know nothing Oliver."

He downed the glass, not caring about the burn in his throat.

"Now that's not true because you seem to know more than I ever have or ever could."

"If only you knew how little I know about the things that matter."

Oliver stopped his walk to get another drink. "What things that matter?"

"You know what things."

Oliver turned to look at Elio. "Why are you telling me this?"

Elio stoped for a second, thinking of an answer. "Because I thought you should know."

Oliver gave a harsh laugh. "Bullshit. Because you thought I should know. Try again."

Elio gave him this look, one of questioning, sadness and desperation. "Because I wanted you to know." He took a step toward Oliver.

"Because I wanted you to know."

Another step.

"Because I wanted you to know."

He stopped at Oliver's chest, looking into the taller man's blue eyes.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Elio didn't respond, which was enough of an answer for him.

He surged forward, lips clashing against Elio's, both men fighting for dominance, though Elio gave up fairly quickly. His hands gripped the lapels of Oliver's suit and pulled the man down, wanting to be as close to him as possible. Oliver's hands searched his body, stuffing his hand down the back of Elio's pants, two fingers sliding into the boys hole, making Elio cry out in pleasure. One muscled arm kept Elio grounded, though the other succeeded in lifting Elio off the ground, solely by the two fingers fucking into his tight wet ass. Broken moans left his lips and Oliver growled his name, the man's teeth having started feasting on his neck, leaving an array of bites and bruises.

The two fingers retreated, but Oliver was far from done. He ripped Elio's shirt in half and tugged off the boys pants, then doing the same to himself. The two men stood naked in Oliver's living room in his penthouse. Elio's chest was taking in heaving breaths, and Oliver was staring at Elio as if he was a meal.

"Are you sure this is what you want? Because once I have you, I won't ever let you go."

Elio stepped into Oliver's chest and mumbled his acceptance.

"You'll kill me if you stop."

Oliver lifted Elio into his arms, kissing his with a ferocity that Elio had never seen before. Oliver laid them in the marble floor, Elio's bare back pressed against the hard cold material. Oliver started at his chest, biting pink nipples and nibbling at his visible ribs. He moved down, sucking at hipbones and stopping at his weeping cock.

Elio's cock was smaller than Oliver's, slightly pinker with a small patch of black hair surrounding it. The head was leaking copious amounts of precum that Oliver swiped onto his tongue, loving the lightly musky taste. He sucked on the tip, eventually taking the cock to the back of his throat, wishing to hear more of Elio's desperate cries to be fucked. He bobbed his head a few times, not even gagging when Elio's cum shot down his throat.

He lifted himself off and looked at the blushing Elio, wishing he could do so many other things to him, something to do with rope to be precise, but they had all the time in the world for that.

Oliver lifted Elio's legs and positioned his cock at Elio's hole, rubbing his precum on the furled pink skin. He pushed in slowly, wanting Elio to adjust to his length before he took him at a pace that would probably wreck the boy. Once he was balls deep and Elio nodded his head, Oliver set a pace that had sweat forming at Elio's brow and wrecked moans to leave his lips.

Broken sounds of 'uh uh uh' left Elio' swollen lips and his hand drifted to his once more hard cock, though Oliver pushed it away and gripped the base, controlling Elio's orgasm. After a few more deep thrusts, Oliver shot his cum into Elio, then pulled out and let his pearly white cum drip onto his still weeping cock.

"P-Plea-se let me cummmm!" Elio jolted his hips forward and Oliver showed mercy, releasing the cock and watching as streams of cum littered Elio's chest.

"That was amazing Oliver." Elio said this with deep breaths, and smiled when Oliver gave him sweet smile. He leaned down so their foreheads were touching,

"I'm just getting started."

Elio slapped Oliver's chest, smiling as the moonlight made the blue in his eyes look that much more beautiful. He loved him, loved the man watching him eat ice cream at midnight a few weeks after their wedding. He never wanted this to end.

He took another spoonful of ice cream, though instead offered it to Oliver, his eyebrows creasing when his mouth didn't open.

"I've gotta watch my figure." He took the spoon from Elio and held it out, but didn't put it in the waiting mouth. Instead, with one hand, he untied the robe to reveal Elio's half hard cock and a hole leaking release from their previous fucking session. He took the spoon and lowered it down, down, pressing it to Elio's ass and doing an upward motion, spreading ice cream over his weeping hole, balls and cock.

He dropped the spoon with a clatter and got to his knees in front of Elio, mouth breathing air on the wet cock. His tongue slithered out and lapped at the cream on his hole, eventually forcing his tongue in and taking in the delicious taste of his husband. He only spent a couple minutes before moving onto his lovely peachy balls, sucking each one in and rolling it between his teeth, loving the gasps he heard from above him.

He saved his cock for last, giving kitten licks to the now hard member, wanting to properly clean him, wanting to torture him before giving him a reward. He felt Elio's hand grip his hair and try to smash his face forward, but he held back, giving a small lick here and a small lick there until he was staring at a hard cock with precum dripping down the sides.

He took the wet card cock to the back of his throat and held him there, loving the way Elio's hip jetted against his face and eventually, the feeling of warm cum sliding down his throat. Oliver pulled back and kissed Elio' limp cock before standing up, and throwing the orgasm ridden boy over his shoulder. He walked to of the kitchen, forgetting about the ice cream, and thinking about where he placed those handcuffs.


	4. Study Session

"Not now Oliver, I have a Psych test tomorrow and if I don't know all fifty of these definitions then I'm screwed."

"I know a thing or two about screwing."

"I hate you."

"You love me. Now shut up and study. I'll just be here, alone, neglected, waiting for you finally give me attention. I don't know how I'll survive."

Elio scoffed and turned back to his textbook, writing down the next definition for the absurdly long chapter that described the properties of conditioning. His hand hurt from all the writing and he just wished he could throw his hands up and flop on is bed in defeat. And while he loved Oliver, he wanted nothing more than to smash his face in the ground for not being in his position. Oliver had graduated college already and Elio was only in his sophomore year, so Oliver's free time was insane compared to Elio's. Oliver, being just a professor's assistant and writing dissertations, had a lot of free time.

But Elio had to see the light at the end of the tunnel, or end of the week really. Next week was spring break, a week of freedom from classrooms and annoying as shit classmates. He would get to sleep in, cuddled in Oliver's arms, and god yes morning sex please. He just needed to get through to Friday, then he would Oliver fuck him into the memory foam.

But for now, he had to study.

It was about fifteen minutes later than he stopped his pen, he was in the middle of writing the definition and examples of reinforcement when he heard it. A popping noise, one that Elio just fucking knew was coming from Oliver's mouth. He sighed through his nostrils, eyebrows creasing and teeth pulling back in a snarl. He turned in his chair with precision and stared at his stupid gorgeous boyfriend, who was making popping noises with his large mouth.

"Do you mind?" Oliver stoped and stared innocently at his studious boyfriend.

"Nah, you're good." He smiled and closed his eyes, resuming the popping sound that made Elio want to throw his notebook at the older man.

"Can you please just sit still for ten more minutes? Please?" He gave Oliver the puppy eyes and smiled when the noise stopped. He went back to note taking, writing as fast as he could all while trying to understand the stuff he was reading. His handwriting had become increasingly worse, and his hand was cramping like hell but thank god he was almost there. Almoooossttttt-

"Elio. Ahhhh Elly Bellyyyyyy ohhh fuck."

Elio was going to be arrested for murder if he turned around and saw what he fucking knew the older man was doing. The squelching sound was lewd and vulgar, but it was making Elio hard in his boxer shorts, and making him lose focus. He would stay strong.

" uh uh uh, yesssss, Elio baby please…"

Elio squeezed his eyes shut and though about Pavlov and dogs and positive and negative reinforcement and punishment, like Oliver putting him over his knee and spanking him and oh fuck it.

Elio shot up, knocking his empty thermos on the floor and bounding to the bed, practically salivating at the sight of Oliver, laid out of the bed with his shirt fully open and cock standing straight up, his right hand jacking it off furiously. There was a sheen layer of sweat of his forehead and pecs and god he wanted it all over his tongue.

Elio pulled down his shorts and sprinted to the bed, sitting on Oliver's thighs and swatting his hands away from the weeping cock.

"I thought you had homework baby." He laughed and threw his head back, chuckling more when Elio swatted at his chest.

"It's not my fault you can't sit still for long periods of time. And besides, you said I was neglecting you…" The younger man's hands ran up Oliver's golden haired thighs, nail racking up the smooth skin and completely bypassing the fully erect member in front of him. His hands ran all the way up to the ridiculously large chest, finger tips running over the hard peaking nubs and slightly pinching, the moan leaving Oliver's lips all the more erotic.

Though Elio wasn't here to only tease, no no. Elio smirked at Oliver's closed eyes and open mouth, before moving his head down the give a kitten lick to the drooling cock head.

It was slightly salty, but to be completely honest, Elio had grown to love the taste of Oliver's cum, though only straight from his cock, dried cum was terribly flaky. Oliver tried jutting up his hips, wanting more of the precious warmth on his throbbing cock but Elio's hands moved from his chest to his hips, holding them down. He was torturous in his movements, licking all around the bulbous red cock head, and eventually taking it in his mouth, loving that his mouth was already half full at just that.

His tongue laved at the head in his mouth and Oliver was trying not to just grip Elio's lovely locks and fuck his sweet sweet throat. But he was letting Elio have control, at least for now.

Elio pulled off, a string of spit keeping his lips and cock connected, which nearly made Oliver cum right then and there. Elio's lips were covered in spit and his eyes were glassy with lust. He was the picture of a debauched lover, and Oliver wasn't even close to done yet. Though before he could even do anything, Elio leaned down and took as much of Oliver's cock as he could, which was about half of the long member.

The sucking noises leaving his full mouth were insanely lewd, and Oliver kinda wished he could hear it all day. He was allowed to slightly jut his hips, Elio's throat bugling from all the cock he was taking. The combination of the wrecked look that Elio was rocking and the delicious warmth around his cock, it was no shock that Oliver came within minutes, his warm cum shooting down the tight throat into Elio's belly, the younger boy not letting a drop spill.

Oliver's chest heaved, taking huge gulps of air as Elio pulled off his softening cock. He looked thoroughly fucked, though that was soon to be the case if Oliver had anything to say about it.

Elio went to step off the bed, wanting to finish the last few notes now that Oliver had emptied his balls into his mouth. But Oliver didn't allow that, for when Elio moved one leg off the bed, Oliver grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him down the bed, now hovering over him with a look of intent and pure lust. His eyes were blown wide with desire and Elio was the one to surge forward, lips clashing with lips, teeth against teeth, one fighting against the other, though Oliver was the one to win, taking control of the kiss and pushing Elio into the covers.

Oliver's mouth left the swollen red lips, leaving wet kisses across his cheek and down to his pale neck, red blossoming against the pale flesh. His teeth nibbled on the skin, wanting Elio to feel him for days, wanted him to feel the tender skin ever time he put on a shirt and just want Oliver.

His lips moved down to the slim chest, leaving open mouthed bite marks, the blood at the surface of the skin looking like a cherry blossom sprouting in snow. Oliver licked his lip at the sight of the perky nipples, just ready to be bitten, which is exactly what he did.

A cry left Elio's lips at the painful pleasure surging through his body, Oliver's plush lips sucking on the swelling flesh. The younger man's hands gripped Oliver's golden hair and pushed his chest into his face, offering himself to his lover. Oliver moved to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. He pulled off and smiled at the blissed out look on Elio's face.

"Is studying still better than me?" The smirk on his face made Elio laugh.

"Shut up and fuck me you idiot." Elio rubbed his hard cock on Oliver's thigh and tried to urge to the man to hurry it up. Which he did, sort of.

Oliver laid on his stomach and looked up Elio's body, looking into his smaller lover's eyes. He broke the stare to turn his eyes to Elio's ass cheeks, the fluffy round oh so bitable mounds of flesh that were hurting Oliver's feelings by not having any marks on them. He kissed one of the globes, before biting down, holding down Elio by his hips when the boy tried to arch away. He kissed the reddening skin, then did it again to the other cheek.

He pulled apart the cheeks and gazed at the tight pucker, the white skin pulled tight into a spiral that Oliver couldn't wait to suck on. His tongue poked at the furled up skin, eventually just shoving it in, relishing in Elio's cries of pleasure. After a few minutes he moved his head away and put a finger on the pucker, using a slight amount of force to breach through.

One finger became two, and two became three. Oliver worked his long fingers, now dripping and wet, in and out of Elio at a devilishly slow pace. Elio tried to hump his fingers but Oliver held him down, wanting the smaller man to beg for his cock.

"Oliver, Oliver please please I need, I need-"

Oliver slid his finger out and nearly chuckled at Elio's whimper.

"Tell me what you want Elio." Elio let out a series of mumbles and whimpers but eventually got it out.

"You, your cock, everything!" Elio nearly yelled his demands, and Oliver gave in.

He moved with speed, sitting up and putting Elio's sweat covered legs over his broad shoulders, lining his cock up with the sopping wet entrance. He took a breath before moving his hips forward and letting the tip pop in, loving the thick constricting feeling on his member. He waited a moment, looking to Elio for the OK, before sliding the rest of the way in, both Elio and Oliver letting out pleasure filled moans.

He remained balls deep for a moment, then pulled almost all the way out, only to surge back in. He did this motion again, pushing his cock as deep as it could go into Elio, them pulling out to just the tip. Elio's head was thrown back into the covers, chest a nice flushed red and sweat covering his brow.

Oliver could feel his release coming so he sped up, pounding into the smaller boy with all his strength, the force of the pound of Oliver's thick hips had Elio being practically fucked into the bed. The slide of Oliver's cock into Elio's loose hole was making a squelching sound that only spurred Oliver to go faster.

Oliver pushed his hips forward, balls pressed against bulbous ass cheeks, and shot his pearly cum into Elio's waiting hole. Oliver's hand gripped Elio's hard red cock and jerked him off until he came as well, his cum becoming a pool on his stomach that Oliver dipped his finger into, then back into his mouth. He did that until his all the cum was gone and his mouth tasted of Elio's essence.

Oliver looked at Elio, smiling at the debauched look on the younger man's face.

"You okay?"

Elio nodded.

"Me okay."

Oliver slid his cock out, simply gazing at the stream of cum running out of the boy's used hole. Elio squeezed his inner muscles, not wanting the cum to escape, or stain the sheets. Oliver lightly slapped Elio's ass, chuckling at Elio's adorable angry face.

"If I fail that test I'm never touching you again."

"I'll help you study if you sit on my lap, I can quiz you or something."

"Just let me get dressed-"

"I never said anything about clothes."

"Oliver!"


	5. Milk

Oliver looked at his pregnant mate, the once flat soft stomach was now distended beyond belief, the pale smooth skin now covered in web like marks that spanned the whole mound of flesh. Oliver had watched with his own eyes, seen the very growth of pups as they squirmed and kicked in the tight confines of their mothers stomach.

The doctor had said they were having triplets, three sons and one daughter. Their status would be revealed upon birth, but Oliver had a feeling at least one would be an Alpha like himself. He hoped one would be an Omega, like Elio. But truthfully, their status didn't matter, as long as they were happy and healthy, all was well.

They had moved into Elio's parents Villa in Crema a few months back, his parents stating that it would make them the happiest grandparents to have their grandchild have an open and free childhood in Italy. And Elio, being the stubborn Omega he was, had at first refused, but gave in after a little convincing from Oliver. So they had moved in, and Oliver was the most content Alpha on the planet.

"Something on your mind?"

Oliver looked at Elio, who had an eyebrow raised while one hand rubbed his tough tummy, trying to sooth his kicking children. As the pregnancy had grown longer, his need to pee and an annoying ache in his stomach had grown stronger.

"Just thinking about when the pups are going to be born, how different our lives will be, and you." Elio turned and smiled at his Alpha, a mischievous shine in his eyes.

"Only me?"

"Only you."

Elio tried to stand, but ending up flopping back down onto the bed, the weight of his stomach too much for his still fragile back. Oliver sat up, long arms pulling his mate back onto the bed, not wanting him to hurt his fragile body, and just not wanting him to leave. Elio curled on his side, knees holding his belly and arm reaching to hold Oliver's face.

"Do you remember what you happened the last time we were in here?"

It was Elio's old room, the two twin beds pushed together, the yellow comforter bringing back so many memories of a different time. Oliver responded with a laugh. "I'd have to be insane to forget." One of his bronzed arms ran along the old covers, tracing the faint pattern to memory.

"This was where I made you mine, and if you weren't pregnant, I'd do it again." He ended with a playful growl, stuffing his face in his mates pale supple neck, mouthing at the always sweet skin. Elio laughed as he batted him away, his shrieks echoing the room. Oliver moved away with a smile, looking his husband in the eyes.

"You know…" Elio whispered, "The Doctor only said doing it on my back was off limits. But there are other ways…" Elio's nimble fingers skimmed along Oliver's arm, tips dragging over fine hairs, eliciting a growl from Oliver. The older man surged forward, his lips clashing against his mates, tongue searching the vast wet cavern of his mouth. He absolutely loved the taste of Elio's mouth, especially after a particularly good blowjob.

Elio moaned into the kiss, though pushed Oliver away in favor of grabbing his chest. Oliver blinked and searched for the source of pain on his mate. Elio's hand were gripping his growing breasts and pressing them into his chest, as if wishing they would recede back into him.

"What's wrong? Is it labor do I need to call the doctor are yo-"

"No, No." Elio breathed a deep sigh before letting go of his chest. "The closer I get to birth, the larger my breasts become and the milk is starting to come in. The doctor said it would only hurt for a little while but they're just so full…"

Oliver's eyes widened and a sinister smirk overcame his face, a smirk so lewd and filthy that even the grinch would be jealous. Elio blushed a crimson shade that spread down his collarbones and all over his full tits. His breasts were large, as Elio's hands gripped them, extra fat spilled over his fingertips and his nipples were a nice rosy pink, a small bead a white cream threatening to spill over and trail a milky stream down his pristine skin. Oliver practically salivated at what the milk would taste like, he hoped it was sweet.

He licked his lips, imagining the pale liquid running down his chin as he sucked the hard wet nipple into his mouth, teeth nibbling on the soft teat- the supple skin giving just a taste of the sweet nectar that would feed his children. His cock grew hard in his pants, his arousal growing stronger with every lewd thought. As if it couldn't get any better, that bud of milk sitting on the edge of the nipple cascaded down Elio's hand, making Oliver practically salivate.

He moved his head forward, bending down to extend his tongue, licking one long stripe up, stopping at the pesky nipple. It was a torment to just stare at it, so he decided to right the wrong that was wasting anymore of the milk by wrapping his lips around the nipple, tugging at it with his teeth.

Elio gasped, hands moving away from his breasts and letting them flop down, fully on display for his mates eyes, and they truly were a sight to behold. The nipple slipped from Oliver's mouth when Elio released his breasts, but that just allowed Oliver free reign over the mounds of fleshy goodness.

His own large hand gripped them, fingers pinching both nipples as Oliver's head took one into his mouth, drinking in all that was given to him. It was sweet like candy, like straight cane sugar mixed with honey. It slid down his throat yet he just sucked more, wanting all of it for himself. His whole hand squeezed the breast, eliciting a yelp from Elio that turned into a moan.

Elio arched his back, pushing his chest into Oliver' face, as well as trying to rub his hardening cock against the larger man. Oliver sucked and Elio humped, both alpha and omega working in tandem. Elio came first, cum shooting across Oliver's pants, the omega's hips stuttering to a stop. Oliver let go of the nipple with a wet pop, before moving to its twin to give it the same treatment.

Elio's cock grew harder the more Oliver suckled, but Elio wanted Oliver's thick knot inside of him, pumping load after load of cum into his willing body. God he wanted his alpha to fuck until he was a mess of cum and milk.

Elio pulled Oliver away from his tit, making them look face to face. "I need you Oliver. Satisfy me."

He let go of the Alpha's hair and waited to see what the man would do. Oliver gave a deep lustful growl before lifting Elio's body into his lap, the omega facing him though not yet sitting on his cock. Instead, the alpha's cock was hard as a rock, sticking straight up between their lust filled bodies, waiting to be dealt with.

Elio's trembling hands gripped the hard cock, one hand pulling down the foreskin to expose to weeping red cockhead, and the other hand fondling the hair covered balls under it. He gripped the sacks in his hands, squishing and feeling their weight, wishing he could give them a nice suck, or even a nibble. His hand had sped up, jacking of the cock furiously as his hand became wet with pre cum.

"Can I…?" Oliver asked, still wanting to be careful with his mate. And Elio responded with a grin, "You'll kill me if you stop."

Oliver carefully lifted his heavily pregnant mate and sat him on his cock, groaning at the tight heat sinking down on him. He didn't thrust up, wanting Elio to adjust, even though they had fucked a million and one times before.

A moment passed before Elio lifted one hand to Oliver's shoulder and tried to lift himself, though found the strain to be to much. He looked at Oliver expectantly and the alpha gave him a smile in return. Oliver moved his hands under Elio's still thin legs and slightly lifted him, if only to give himself room to thrust, which is exactly what he did next.

He gave one harsh thrust up, balls sitting against Elio's ass as his whole cock slid into his mate, nearly cumming and knotting him then and there. But he held back, wanting to get his Elio to clench around him as he came. He shallowly thrusted, barely leaving the tight heat, grinning at Elio's desperate cries for release but not giving in.

"Ple-Please faster fa-faster Alphaaaaaa! Fuc-Fuck me so fucking hard Oliver I need- I need you-your cock!" Elio moaned into the wind and nearly screamed to the heavens when Oliver gained a ferocious pace, slamming his cock into Elio as deep as he could, snarls and grunts leaving his lips.

Sweat dripped down both of their bodies, but Oliver's eyes were on a drop that was trying to slide down one of Elio's bouncing tits. He surged forward, biting into the breast just as he came, going balls deep as his knot popped into his mate, Elio's own cock shooting pearly white cum onto their chests.

They breathed deep for a moment, one of Elio's hands going to rub his sweaty tummy, the other caressing Oliver's stubbly cheek. He leaned forward, wincing as to not dislodge the knot still shooting cum in him. His lips nibbled Oliver's earlobe and placed a sweet kiss on the side of his head. Oliver returned the action, though spoke in a whisper into Elio's ear.

"Call me by your name…"

"And I'll call you by mine." Elio responded with a sweet smile and kissed Oliver, basking in the sweet glow of their never ending paradise.


	6. AMERICAN Animals

2004

18 months before the Robbery

Elio wanted to have that event, you know the one, that one event that makes you the person you're supposed to be, the person who everyone wants you to be. Elio hadn't had it yet, shit, who the fuck had at his age. But then again, it seemed like everyone had. Everyone else had found their calling, yet here he was, laying in his bed, paint brush in his hand, easel just touching his knees.

He was drawing himself, though the lines on his cheek were more defined than the ones on his actual face, though wasn't most art always better than the real thing?

He flopped back onto the bed, puffing out a breath of air. He turned his head, eyeing his roommate, there was a video on his computer of a man licking a taser. He looked away, eyes finding his drawing once more. He sat up abruptly, his hand hovering over the drawn face. His thumb poked through the eye, thinking it looked much better.

Elio sat in his art class, the professors mouth moving to soundless words, though the vibration of his phone brought him back to reality. His hand reached in, pulling out the flip phone, smiling at the name on the screen.

Oliver

He pressed the reject button, knowing answering it would get him a nasty glare from his professor. He pocketed they phone, resuming his nonexistent listening and mindless drawing.

"Don't ignore my calls." Elio nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to look at the man himself, Oliver. He was taller than Elio, blonde haired and blue eyed with a stupid smirk on his lips that Elio never could ignore. He dressed like he was homeless, or lived out of a Hawaiian store. It made Elio smile.

He whispered back, "Bother me later, I have class."

Oliver nodded and left, and Elio resumed listening to a lecture that wasn't nearly as exciting as the man who had just left.

Elio found himself at the library, it was nice, quiet, though a little boring. But then again, it was a library. He walked up the stairs, eyes following a group of students that seemed to be following a librarian. He found no harm in following them. He wasn't listening to what she was saying, but raised an eyebrow when she opened a door, but not before scanning a card that unlocked the door, and let them in.

He was the last to go in. He looked around the room, taking in all the books. He vaguely heard the librarian talking about how some of the books were old as hell, that some were rare as shit. But that wasn't what caught his eye.

The librarian stopped in the middle of the room, at the largest glass case he'd ever seen. And inside was a huge, giant book. It was open to a page of a Flamingo, and it was unlike anything Elio had ever drawn. It felt so real it gave Elio chills. It was art, and Elio would admit that he felt a need to reach out and touch it, see if it felt as good as it looked. He vaguely heard the words Birds of America, and Auduban.

He didn't notice that the librarian had lead them out, though he was still staring at the Aduban.

"Sir? It's time to go. If you would like to see it again you will need to make an appointment."

"An appointment? What kind of book needs an appointment?"

Elio looked at Oliver, smiling at him. "It's a special book, super rare I think." Elio took a hit of his blunt, the burn of smoke in his lungs making his head lighter. He laughed as he exhaled, looking at Oliver's serious face.

"What's up man?" He handed the blunt over and waited for an answer, and groaned when Oliver remained silent. Elio pointed to the mini mart in the gas station, smiling when Oliver made the most illegal turn to pull in.

He stepped out of the car, stopping when Oliver grabbed his arm. "Why did you tell me about it?" Elio pulled his arm away and made his way into the store, going straight to the chip section. He eyed the bugles, thinking the saltiness would be nice. He looked over the aisle into the gas station, and made eye contact with Oliver. They held each other's eyes, Elio breaking the stare first.

He looked back to the cheesy bugles and thought about it for a moment. What he knew he was thinking, deep down, what had been coursing through his mind all day. What if they- not that they would- but what if they- not that ever could pull something like that off- but what if they stole the Auduban?

Elio knows it's a stupid and reckless idea that would get them in trouble, or worse, and he knows its ridiculous and dumb, but what if this what he had been thinking about? The big event that would change who he is for the rest of his life? This could be his defining moment to finally do something that would change his future and everything he did in life.

He looked over the snack display again, and had a feeling that Oliver was thinking the same thing. He made it back to the car with his snacks. Oliver pulled out of the gas station, Elio chewing on his bugles in the passenger seat.

Oliver drove them to his place, both men flopping on the run down couch, breath leaving them in a huff. They hadn't spoken the whole car ride, both men lost in their thoughts. But on the couch, next to each other, Oliver was on Elio faster than faster than you could say Auduban.

Their relationship was, the put it best, weird.

They were friends, best friends, but occasionally, Oliver would such Elio's dick and eat him out in his shitty shower. But they never really spoke about what they were, if they were exclusive or anything, but Elio liked to think they were.

Oliver pulled his lips away from Elio's, hands gripping the smaller boys shirt. He breathed against his lips, eyes searching Elio's face.

"Can I kiss you-"

"Yes please." Only Oliver would ask to kiss you after you've already been kissed.

Oliver fell onto the smaller man, hands gripping any ounce of pale flesh that he could, desperation clear in his slightly shaky moves. He tore open the smaller man's shirt, mouth biting at a perky pink nipple and licking over white skin.

Elio threw his head back, a broken moan leaving his lips. He jutted his hips forward, wanting to gain some fiction against his hard cock.

Oliver mouthed at the nipples twin, making his way back up to Elio 's neck, nibbling at his ear. He bit the lobe a little to hard, but Elio wasn't complaining.

"Let's steal the book." Elio looked at Oliver, cheeks pink and eyes glassy. This was so Oliver, asking him mid make out if he wanted to steal the book.

Elio tried to push Oliver's head back down, closer to his pants, but the larger man wouldn't budge. He was set in stone, wanting an answer.

"C'mon, I know you're thinking about it. You wouldn't have told me if you weren't. I know you want that book."

Now, Oliver wasn't wrong, he really wasn't. But, it was crazy. It was insane. It was exactly what he wanted.

"Let's steal the fucking book." Oliver gave him the brightest smile he'd ever seen and surged forward, teeth clashing and lips smashing together. Hands furiously tore off clothes, and Elio became light headed at the thought that they were finally gonna fuck. Who knew that planning a heist would turn on Oliver so much.

One of Oliver's shaking hands reached under the couch cushion and grabbed a half empty bottle of lube, pouring a hefty mount on his hard cock that was much bigger than Elio expected. It was thick and slightly curved at the tip.

Both of the boys were naked, Oliver between Elio's quivering thighs. He gripped his slick cock, putting it to the boys hole, not bothering with prep for some absurd reason. He pushed in the tip, holding himself there for Elio to adjust.

Elio nodded to Oliver, allowing the man to slowly sink his cock into the smaller boy until nothing was left to push forward. He held himself balls deep letting Elio adjust even more.

It took a few moments before Elio nodded, letting Oliver make shallow thrusts, deep moans and groans echoing through the room. Elio felt every ridge and line of the cock inside him, and nearly came when the head brushed against his prostate. Oliver was letting out pants and his thrust became more short, not wanting to leave the warm heat surrounding his cock.

Oliver came first, shooting his load deep into Elio, not regretting it one bit. Elio came a few seconds later, shooting cum across his chest, a bit hitting his chin. He laid back, breathing deeply and staring at Oliver, a stupid smile on his face.

The older boy seemed to have gained his strength back faster than Elio, for Oliver picked up Elio and made his way to the bathtub, wanting to soak a bit.

And that's what they did, soaked in lukewarm water, Elio in Oliver's lap.

"We're gonna steal that book. And were not gonna get caught."

"And no one's gonna get hurt."

Oliver nodded and rested his head on the bathtub wall, eyes closing in a sleep filled with dreams of disguises and pink shirts.


	7. The Way Things Used To Be

"Oliver! What is your opinion on the new law regarding omegas in schools? How do you think this will affect birth rates? Do you plan on getting your own omega soon?"

"Is it true that you were born a beta and got a sex change?"

"Oliver, what can you tell us about the omega code of conduct?"

Oliver waved his hand and stepped into the large vehicle, waving at the driver to get him out of there, he was done answering questions. The car made a quick getaway, speeding down the road in record time, leaving behind the paparazzi and his never relenting fans.

"Hard day boss?"

"Just another day." Oliver looked out of the window, watching the scenery pass by in a flash.

His day had been hell, but what day wasn't. He had had a group overly annoying omegas in his office, complaining that they weren't given enough leave to be able to care for their babes. Now as much as Oliver wanted to fire them and tell them go home and nurse their children, he gave them a smile and said he'd think about it. They had left in an angry puff and Oliver had sneered at their backs.

Now, to the outside world, Oliver was all for Omega rights, wanted them to get out and get jobs, mating wasn't mandatory anymore, and well, Omega's weren't second class citizens in this day and age. But the real Oliver, the Oliver behind closed doors, he didn't agree with it. With any of it.

He loved when the world was simple, Omegas belonged in the kitchen, and Alpha's brought the bread for the table. He liked the idea that an omegas place was on their knees, rump in the air, and an alphas place was above them.

And while the rest of the world changed, Oliver stayed the same.

He smiled as they pulled up to his reclusive house, stepping out the tall car and waiting as it drove away. He walked to the front door, unlocking the two locks and pulling open them door, cock hardening at the scent of his omega. He could still remember when he had first seen him.

Crema was stunning, it was marvelous and it was everything right in the world. During the day, the sky was big, blue and beautiful, and completely cloud free. But at night, the dark sky was filled to their brim with stars that shone so bright, Oliver wished stars that like shined in California.

He walked down the nearly empty street, skipping to the faint music playing in a café nearby.

"A kiss is not enough….. Love my way…." Oliver turned his head, eyes finding the small café that was playing the song. He stepped up to it, opening the door and walking inside. He nearly came in his pants at what he saw.

There was a boy, elven or twelve, all pale skin and curly black hair, dancing to the song playing from the radio. His small hips swayed to the song, and Oliver wondered what the skin would feel like under his teeth. He could imagine the bruises he'd press into the small boys skin, would love to hear the cry's from the boys mouth as fucked into his virgin hole. God he could smell the innocence coming off the boy.

Oliver would have great pride in deflowering the young boy.

He cleared his throat, the boy never realizing that he had an audience. He blushed a pink color that Oliver could bet when down farther than he could see.

"Can I help you sir?" His voice was filled with childlike purity that Oliver couldn't wait to destroy, along with that pesky virginity of his.

"Yes, I just heard you outside and had to see for myself the owner of that beautiful voice." Oliver smirked at the widening of the boys eyes, his hands twisting in front of him, not knowing what to do.

"And lets just say…" Oliver walking to the boy, crowding him against the counter, arms resting on the granite on either side of the boy, "You are exquisite."

Oliver leaned down, nose brushing against the young boys jugular, practically tasting the fertility that rested in that tight little body.

The boy shuddered against him, omega body not knowing what to do with such a strong alpha against it, not knowing if it should present or flee. But it seemed fleeing wasn't an option.

Oliver felt his cock grown hard in his pants, knot needing to be released in the body in front of him. His pink tongue licked up the side of the boys neck, tasting the salty skin, teeth throbbing with the need to bite. He pulled back though, looking into the omega's eyes, "Tell me your name omega." He let out a little growl, wanting an answer.

The boy looked at him, frozen in place. "Sir, can you plea-"

A deep angry growl left Oliver's chest, making the boy shrink back.

"Name, Omega." The boy sniffled and spoke in a quiet voice, that was more of a whimper.

"Elio."

Oliver smiled and moved like a viper, biting into the flesh of the boys neck, marking him as Olivers.

Oliver nudged off his loafers, smiling at the smell wafting from the kitchen. He reached up to pull off his tie, wanting to get out of his suit as fast as he could. He stood in the doorway, watching his Elio stir the pot, a look of concentration on his boyish face. He was shirtless, no pants, just a black thong holding his tiny cock to his body.

Oliver cleared his throat, smiling at the lovely blush that covered the boys cheeks and chest. He fell to his knees and crawled to his alpha, looking up and waiting for direction.

"Are you hungry omega? Take a drink." Elio nodded and worked on unzipping his alphas pants, reaching in and pulling out the massive half hard cock, immediately suckling on the head, willing the cum to come out faster.

His left hand reached up and jacked off what couldn't fit in his mouth, and his right hand reached in and took out his alphas large round balls, fondling them in his hands, rolling the firm balls between his skinny fingers.

His cheeks hollowed as he tried to such more of his alphas cock, but found his mouth to be to small and the member to be to big. Oliver jutted his hips forward, forcefully stuffing the cock in a far as it could go, loving the tears that leaked out of his omegas eyes.

Elio's tongue licked every part of the cock he could reach, wanting to please his alpha in the best way he could. Oliver could feel his orgasm coming, and forced more of his cock into his omegas mouth, feeling his balls tighten and a coil in his stomach unravel as he started to come.

Elio coughed as his mouth filled with his alphas release, knowing that spilling a drop would result in a spanking that would do more bad than good for his bottom. Oliver was glad his knot didn't form, knowing he could only knot if he was stuffed deep in his omegas hole, that tight heat nearly suffocating his cock.

The cum stopped after about a minute, Elio drinking every last drop, pulling off the wet cock head with a pop.

"Was that tasty my omega?"

"Yes alpha." Elio smiled up at his alpha, eyes widening when he remembered about dinner. But he couldn't stand without his alphas permission.

"Alpha, the food will burn." His alpha nodded and he stood, walking to the sauce to make sure it didn't burn, knowing that burning dinner would result in a spanking as well.

"How was work alpha?"

"Nothing important omega. And yours?"

"Just cleaned Alpha. And had to kill a spider." Oliver looked at his omegas face, loving the scrunch of his nose at the thought of their harmless arachnid. Elio stopped away from the stove and started to portion the chicken and sauce, giving his alpha twice as much.

They ate at the table, Elio talking about a new omega tv show he had started watching and Oliver listening without responding. Elio's bare toes nudged Olivers, playing footsie under the table was one of the few childish things that Oliver still allowed. Elio may be 14, but he was expected to like an adult omega.

Elio cleaned the dishes, as he did every night, then toweled his hands clean and made his way upstairs, knowing his alpha was waiting for him.

"Present Omega." Elio nodded and pulled down his panties, stepping out of them and pulling himself onto the bed, on all fours, ass on the air.

Oliver licked his lips at the sight of his omegas bottom, the diamond plug still nestled between his pale cheeks. The pink diamond plug was the alphas favorite, as it made his omega hole look all the more pretty.

Oliver pulled off the rest of his clothes, standing at the foot of the bed, staring at his omegas ass.

"What do you want omega?" Oliver's hand ghosted over the hairless cheek, hand rearing back to smack them globe of flesh, loving the jiggle. Elio's arms ceased holding him up, allowing his upper half to collapse onto the bed, leaving just his ass up, a true omegan pose.

Oliver heard Elio mumble something into the sheets, though Oliver wanted to hear him say it. He kneeled behind his omega and gripped the black curls in his hand, pulling him up against his alphas chest.

"Say it Omega. I want to hear you say it." Oliver let out a deep growl and smiled at the tears at the corners of his omegas eyes.

"Please Alpha, please give your cock. Please." And Oliver gave into his desperate cry, reaching down and wrenching the plug free, allowing his cock to slid right into the gaping hole, his omega letting out a broken cry at the abuse his body was withstanding.

Oliver let go of his hair and pushed him forward, hand planting itself into the middle of the omegas back, holding him there, face pressed into the deep burgundy sheets, cry's swallowed up by the fabric.

Oliver set a brutal pace, cock going deeper and deeper with every thrust, wanting his omega to feel him for days. Elio felt his eyes roll into the back of his head, pleasure coursing through every vein in his body and rendering him nearly unconscious.

Drool dribbled from his mouth and soaked into the covers, Oliver still pounding away into his sopping wet hole. Oliver reached under his omega and smirked at the hard cock that was just waiting to cum. But he returned his hand to hold his omegas hip, wanting him to cum just from his cock.

Oliver felt his knot start to form and shoved his hips forward, burying his cock in his omegas hole as deep a it could go, wanting his knot to plug up ever ounce of cum he would release, hoping this would finally be the time he gave him omega a cub, would make his omega fat and sweet, make his tits filled with delicious milk that would give their cub strong bones and warm skin.

Oliver roared as his knot popped, sealing himself inside his omega, flopping onto the sweaty boy, knowing that his omega had cum just from the feel of his knot.

Oliver pulled them onto their sides, spooning Elio and kissing the side of his face. He smiled and he fell into sleep, hand spreading over Elio's slim stomach.


	8. Working Hard, Hardly Working

Oliver shuddered as another wave of agitation ran through him. It was the third time this afternoon, and it sure as hell wasn't coming from him.

He knew Elio didn't like his job, though hated would be a more accurate term. He was a school teacher-specifically teacher of the young Omegas. It was still illegal for an omega to teach a strictly Alpha class, and there were only a few mated Omegas who taught both Alpha and Omega classes. Oliver fought to have Elio teach Alphas but his mate tended to be quite unwilling to fight the school board.

Elio taught 13 children Monday through Thursday, 11-3. It was a pompous parent owned the city type of school where the children only went for a few hours and did absolutely nothing but eat expensive snacks and nap. It was an easy job, but Oliver could see how much it hurt his mate to be in a position where he was actually not allowed to teach. The Principle, Mr. Thomas, had hired Elio not for his college degree or his brain, but because he had batted his eyelashes and showed some skin during the interview.

Oliver was accustomed to these hits of irritation through their bond, but now it was beginning to affect his work. He couldn't think with Elio's emotions running through his brain.

He lifted the phone off his desk, "Cynthia move my meetings to Thursday at 4. I'm taking the rest of the day off."

He could practically hear her eyes roll. "Let me guess, Elio again?"

He smiled into the receiver. "You know it." He put down the phone with a click; he saw it was only 2:30. Oliver stood and shut down his computer, grabbing his coat and brief case as he left the room, the door locking with a click behind him. A nod to the security guard in the garage and he was off, seatbelt forgotten as he zoomed down the highway.

He made it home in thirty minutes, there had been an accident and some Alpha had been screaming at the top of his lungs at a quivering crying Omega.

Oliver was shocked to see Elio's tiny little yellow car in the driveway, his friend Marzia had always said yellow was his color, when Elio usually didn't come home until 4.

He opened the large wooden door to their home and was welcomed to the smell of something that made Oliver's stomach grumble.

"Elio, I'm home!" He shut the door and shucked off his tie, letting out an 'Oof!' when he suddenly had an armful of Omega. A mop of black hair was stuffed under his chin and he could barely discern the words that were being spoken into his shirt-clad chest. He tried to push the thin shoulders back but thin pale arms wound around his chest and pulled him in even closer.

A low growl rumbled through the Alphas chest and a purr resonated through his Omegas. They worked in tandem and Oliver loved the feeling of Elio's arms becoming loose and the feeling of him slumping on his chest.

"You good?" He received a nod into his chest.

Elio pulled back and Oliver loved his Omega even more. He wore makeup to work, the foundation hid any pimples or zits, and the highlighter brought out his cut crease cheekbones. He looked like a pale angel, with a light dash of red on his lips.

Oliver leaned down and Elio reared up, both men meeting in the middle and sharing a sweet kiss. It was short lived as Elio pulled back and went flat on his feet, letting out a huff of air through his nostrils, which in turn made Oliver peck his nose.

Oliver bumped shoulders with the Omega and gently led him back to the kitchen; "Tell me about your day pumpkin." Elio grinned; Oliver only used stupid nicknames to make him feel better.

Elio sat at one of the kitchen stools with a serving spoon the size of his head in a platter of scalloped potatoes, "Well, first Susan's mother yelled in my face because Mr. Campbell's son pulled her hair even though I had them make up but she still felt it was my fault and I just had to smile and nod like an idiot. Then Rodney threw up on me when I picked him up because he fell and that was just from 11 to 12."

He paused to stuff the spoon in his mouth, mumbling more incoherent complaints about his day. Oliver smiled and nodded, trying to steal a bit and smiling when Elio slapped his hand away, pointing to a tray of Lasagna instead. Both men ate and Oliver nodded at everything Elio said, trying his best to follow when Elio got so mad, he started speaking In Italian.

"And I was just so done I took an early leave so I could come here and stress eat." Elio nodded as he finished his sentence, licking the large spoon of the creamy white sauce. Oliver set down his fork after another bite of Lasagna, feeling his cock grow slightly plump in his tight pants.

"How about we take our food to the couch, put on It's The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown, and then I let you ride me in bed till you see stars. Deal?" Elio nodded eagerly and grabbed his tray, running to the living room and sitting cross-legged on the couch, waiting with eager eyes for his mate to join him.

Oliver pulled out a beer and Diet Coke from the fridge, Omegas had a low tolerance for alcohol and an angry drunk Elio was never pleasant. Tray in one hand and drinks in the other, Oliver walked to the living room and smiled at the eager Elio, starting up the movie with a smile.

Oliver smiled through the short movie, loving the way Elio would mouth Linus's words, or how he would sneer at Lucy when she drew a pumpkin on Charlie Browns head. It was more entertaining to watch Elio if he was being honest.

When the credits rolled Oliver stood, stretching his taut muscles and sore arms. Elio did the same, though Oliver licked his lips at the sliver of skin that shone at his hips. Oliver grabbed the two trays and walked to the kitchen, placing them in the sink and vowing to wash them in the morning before work.

Elio walked up behind him and grabbed his arm, dragging him up the stairs with a sly smile. They somehow made it up the stairs, Oliver having started groping the Omegas lovely bottom. They stopped at the entrance to their master bedroom, Oliver slowly stripping off his clothes as he walked to the bed, eventually planting his bare ass on the sheets to pull off his pants, shoes and socks.

Once he was naked, he looked at the Omega, raising an eyebrow at his fully clothed state. The Alpha watched with pierced eyes as his Omega walked right to the closet and pulled it open, falling to his knees and pulling out a box. But it wasn't just any box, it was _The_ Box.

It held everything from Elio's favorite dildos, to blindfolds and rope. Oliver favorited the rope, but Elio had a different idea.

Oliver's cock grew hard against his thigh as Elio turned around, handcuffs hanging from one finger. Elio pointed to the barred headboard.

"Place your hands against the headboard." Oliver smirked and did as he was told, growling in pleasure when the Omega locked his hands in place. They both knew he could break out if he wanted, but there was no fun in that at all.

Elio started with his shoes, toeing them off and pushing them under the bed, next bending down to peel off his socks, throwing them over his shoulder. Next were his pants, he loved to wear tight jeans, and taking them off was even more fun.

Placing his hands on the tops of the denim pants he shimmied out of them, loving the way his Alphas eyes bugged out at the sight of his commando state, leaving his already hard cock on display. He tended to shave all of his body hair, not that he really grew any, but it made his skin all the more smooth for his Alpha to touch.

His top came off in one fluid motion; leaving him naked for Oliver, cock jutting out and practically weeping in pleasure. Oliver's own cock was massive, fully hard and standing straight, wishing it were planted in the tight heat of his mate, which is exactly where it would be in just a moment.

Elio planted one knee on the bed, then the other, crawling to his Oliver and sitting square on his chest, legs resting on either side of him. Elio leaned over him, lips just touching.

"Can I kiss you-?"

"Yes please."

Their lips devoured each other, though Elio pulled back and let Oliver try his best to rear up and nibble at the pale flesh. He loved leaving marks on Elio; it sent a surge of possessiveness through his chest that made him more Alpha than man.

Oliver could feel the slick coat his chest, Elio's hole starting grow wet over his Alpha. Elio didn't ask for permission, he simply moved himself up so he was gripping the headboard and his hole was at his mates' mouth; slick dripping to coat the waiting lips.

Oliver didn't waste a second, head surging up to stick his tongue as deep as it could go, wanting the taste of Elio in his throat, in his stomach, everywhere.

Elio moaned loudly, pressing his face onto the rough tongue though still wanting something much thicker and deeper. Before he could feel the urge to cum, Elio moved off of Oliver's mouth and sat behind the already waiting cock, gazing at his wet mouth mate.

He lifted himself up and placed the cock at his rim, rubbing the head in the spit and slick, eventually letting it breach him with a cry of pleasure. His legs muscles were useless, in that they forgot to hold him up and he collapsed on Oliver's hips, impaling himself on the thick cock that was pulsating inside of him.

Elio held himself up as Oliver jutted his hips up and down, growing a steadier pace as their moans grew more desperate. Oliver wanted to break the cuffs and grip his Omegas hips and just pound into him until he forgot his own name, he could have Oliver's for all he cared. He would give the Omega the world just to watch the pleasure crash over him in waves, to be the only one who would ever make him feel like this.

Elio screamed as he came, his inner muscles tightening so tight around Oliver's cock it felt like he was in a chokehold, but he still came with an audible roar. His seed pumped into his mates willing body in spurts, filling him to the brim with his pearly essence.

Oliver could feel his knot starting to form, locking them together for what would be a solid half hour. Elio sat up, hips stuck to Oliver's, sated smile on his lips.

He leaned forward as best he could, "Knew I'd get you in those cuffs. You said they were for me but I knew..."

Oliver raised a brow and slightly moved his raised arms that were still tied to the headboard. "Is there anything you don't know?"

Elio gave him a lazy smile and let his head fall back as he gazed at the ceiling. "Only the things that matter."

Oliver raised a curious eyebrow. "What things that matter?"

Elio leaned his head forward and slightly shifted his hips. "You. Me. Us."

Oliver smiled at his drowsy mate and was prepared when he fell forward, knot still keeping his hips in his lap. Oliver smiled and leaned back, thinking about what tomorrow would hold, and the dishes resting in the sink.


	9. Is this the real life?

Timothée walked down the street at a faster pace than normal, his backpack hitched high on his shoulder. He nervously looked down the sidewalk, glancing over his back as he lifted his bag higher with every few steps. His teeth bit into the meat of his bottom lip, pain blossoming when he bit just a bit too hard though his tongue quickly laved at the wound, trying to soothe the slight burn.

He grinned when his house came into view, practically running to the door and fumbling in his jacket pocket for his keys, hands twitching as he tried to find the right one that would open the door.

He grinned when the lock turned and pushed open the door, slamming it closed and resting his back against it. A deep breath exited his chest and he closed his eyes close in relief.

"What're you doing?" His relief was cut short as his sister Pauline raised a speculative eyebrow at him. She was a hair shorter than him, though she was much older than him, which in turn made Timothée look for any possible moment to make fun of her height.

"None of your business shorty. Leave me alone, I have important things to do." He tried to push past her but found she had moved as well, raising both eyebrows this time. He pierced his eyes and glared at her, hitching his bag onto his shoulder again as it nearly fell off. He realized a smidgeon too late that was the wrong thing to do.

"What's in the bag Timmy Tim?" Her lips formed a smirk as she opened her mouth as wide as it could go and took a deep breath-

"Timmy are you doING DRUGS! -" His hand shot to cover her mouth, breathing deep through his nostrils as he hoped his mother didn't hear Pauline's shriek. He waited a moment before taking his hand away and whispering fast "I'm not doing drugs I'm doing super-secret shit that I don't need you to stick your huge nose-"

"MOM-" He covered her mouth again and dragged her into the living room, glaring at her with his dark brows furrowed above his eyes. She raised her eyebrows as they heard their mother yell down that stairs, asking if everything was okay, a deep cough following her question. Both teens winced at their mother's deep cough, instantly regretting calling her name.

Timothée yelled back that they were fine and let out a breath of relief as they heard her footsteps recede.

He dragged Pauline upstairs, past his mother's room and into his own, lightly shutting and locking the door. Pauline sat on his bed, scoffing at the unmade covers and clothes on the floor. Her eyes followed her brothers movements, wincing when his bag hit the floor with a bang. He unzipped and thrust his hand into the open bag, pulling out the object of curiosity.

It was a large leather-bound book with some type of Latin on the front. It looked pretty fucking ominous in Pauline's opinion.

"The hell is that?" Pauline's voice sounded curious, but Timothée could hear the hint of worry. He held up the book so she could see the front.

"It's a spell book."

It took her a moment to respond. "WHAT?"

"Shhh!"

Pauline stood in the middle of the bedroom with her arms crossed over her chest, a deep frown set on her thin lips.

"Explain. Now."

Timothee sighed as he walked to his bed, sitting down on the fluffy red comforter and toeing off his shoes as he shrugged off his jacket. "Well according to Saorise, the Irish girl in my history class, it's a book her great grandma used to use when she wanted to do witchy shit and spell people. It's nothing bad and besides-" Timothee stood as he lifted the book up and held it out to Pauline, "- I think she's full of shit."

"Then why did you take it?" She did have a point.

"Well I thought about it and what's the harm in trying one or two? What if-what if I could cure Mom? What if I could make it so we would never have to worry about stuff like money or debt ever again?"

Pauline sighed and rubbed the crease in her eyebrows. "Timmy you're getting your hopes up for nothing…"

Timothée sighed and crossed his arms with a glare, "If you're just gonna call me stupid get out, I can do this alone." Pauline proceeded to roll her eyes and place her hands on her hips, "Just cause I think you're dumb doesn't mean I'm not gonna help you do this voodoo crap."

He smiled as large as he could before vaulting off the bed and wrapping his thin arms around his sister, smooshing his face in her shoulder.

"How do we do this?"

It was a requirement of the book that spells be done at the stroke of midnight, which had made Pauline let out a snort, and required a family heirloom and blood sacrifice, which made Timothée cringe.

2 of the three things were quite easy, the family heirloom was one of Pauline's bracelets that had been passed down for two generations, and doing the spell at midnight was a piece of cake.

The blood sacrifice was not so easy. Timothée looked to Pauline, and Pauline looked to Timmy.

"Don't expect shit from me nerd! It's your spell not mine!"

He cursed. She had a point.

After dinner he made sure to grab one of the smaller knives from the cutlery draw, slipping into his pocket before his mom could see and question him.

At 11:54 Pauline and Timothee made their way into the attic, none of them were doing this kinda spooky shit in places they had to sleep, and sat on the ground. Timothee laid out a large purple square of cloth on the ground and placed the book in front of him. Pauline made work of lighting a few candles around them, for aesthetics of course.

He flipped through the pages and tried to discern the Latin from the Greek from the maybe English.

"You found it yet?" Timothee huffed and put down the book. "I think so. But I guess we're about to find out." He placed his legs under his butt and leaned forward, "I think this one summons some type of genie or something. Maybe it'll give me some wishes…"

Timothée looked at his watch, 12 on the dot, and spoke the first words of the spell.

" _bonitas iterum praedicetur diaboli…"_

He let out a shiver as a gust of wind wafted through the room, though never blowing out the candles. He looked at Pauline and she nodded.

" _Spiritus tuus vocatio de interitiónibus eórum. Et dabo tibi animam tuam in opus ad commutationem. Offer accipit mihi? Si facis signum dare. Et sanguis meus est offer."_ Timothee cut his hand and made a fist as he let the blood drip onto Pauline's bracelet, wincing when a lick of pain went through his arm.

Both teens held their breath as they waited, nothing really happening. A few gusts of wind rang through the rafters above them and threatened to once again blow out the candles. Timothee turned his head and looked around the room.

"I don't think it worked." He let out a huff as leaned back on his feet, wondering what went wrong.

Pauline looked around, trying to see if anything in the room had changed and didn't really see much. She had meant to lean over to place her hand one Timmy's shoulder and tell him that it was okay and that there was no way that it would've worked any-

Her breath caught in her throat when a thick black _tail swept over her little brothers shoulder._ A scream was stuck in her throat and it felt as though there was a hand wrapped just under her chin, keeping in her shrill yelp of terror. Her eyes widened as the tail swept over the other shoulder before seemingly wrapping around Timothée's neck, as if it belonged there.

Her lips quivered as her wide eyes traveled up the length of the dark limb, up into the beams that criss crossed above their heads, which housed a figure that she couldn't quite see. The only thing visible was the thick corded tail that was now petting Timothée's cheek and she couldn't take it anymore.

She stood and flinched when the tail seemed to stop stroking her brothers soft pale cheeks and the pointed end flickered dangerously close to his eye, as if threatening her through him.

Timothée's eyes flicked over her standing figure, raising a curious eyebrow at her. Her followed where her eyes were gazing but saw nothing but darkness.

He closed the book with a slam and went to blow out the candles, stopping briefly when a he felt a gentle sweep of air next to his ear, making him turn but find nothing in sight. He shrugged and turned back, "Well that went terribly."

His brow furrowed when he realized Pauline had already left.

* * *

"I know you're there. Show yourself….whatever you are."

"I think the correct term is 'whomever'."

Pauline had fled from the attic the moment the _monster_ that her and her brother had summoned had seeped down from the rafters like a demonic pile of goo. She felt like Eddie Brock except this was no Venom.

It was a man. She wanted to snort; of course the satanic being took the shape of a tall white man that was dressed to hell and back.

He was tall, so tall that she had to look up to see into his bright blue eyes that seemed to be filled with an emotion kin to amusement.

"Did we summon you?"

This time, he snorted.

"Are you asking if you and that mouthwatering human upstairs called for my assistance? Technically you didn't." Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, prompting the man to keep speaking.

"What you did was essentially call a universal telephone and anybody within range took the call and- hey, you should be thanking me- you almost got this guy Micheal and let me tell you he's the real monster that you seem to think I am."

"Why did you take the call?"

He smiled at her as he stalked across the room, picking up any trinket in sight.

"Even a king gets bored… and besides, your brothers voice was just too _tempting_ to ignore." She took a step back but realized she had nowhere to run, or at least nowhere that he couldn't find her.

Pauline held her head high and spoke with a strong voice, "What'd you want?" Her words forced a laugh out of his throat and he changed his target, walking at a slow pace towards the teenage girl.

"What do I want Pauline? I want-" His eyes as well as mouth closed as he took a deep breath, breathing in his surroundings. His piercing eyes opened and he spoke his demand short and simple.

"I want Timothée ." Pauline let out a gross snort at his demand.

"You can't just have a person asshole, no less my brother. You may as well go if those are your 'demands'." She smirked at the demon man and watched as he sat on the edge of her bed, fingering the ear of a stuffed bear.

"It would do you best to watch how you talk to me."

Her shoulders lowered at his dark tone, watching as he lay the toy down once more. "What're you gonna do? Kill me?"

The words had barely left her mouth as the man seemed to _teleport_ in front of her and ram his hand into her chest, his long fingers holding her heart as if it was a delicate flower. She felt no pain at his action, no stray blood trying to escape her body, it was as if he had done nothing at all.

"I can." His fingers tightened just a smidge and then she felt true pain. "And I will." She closed her eyes and braced herself for excruciating pain and her inevitable death, but nothing came.

"Unless you give your brother to me." His hold on her heart loosened a bit as he tried to coax her acceptance. "Just say the words and I'll let you live. Both of you."

"I can heal your Mother, I can give you anything you desire but only if he _belongs to me._ " Pauline would be lying if she said she wasn't tempted to accept his offer and be able to live a life she always wanted and never have a care in the world just without Timothee. But he wasn't a patience man.

She must have been silent too long for the his liking, "For what it's worth Pauline, I _am_ sorry."

He crushed her heart in his hand and looked into her eyes as she died, feeling a sight tick in his chest at the fact that her actions would send her to the angels above and nowhere near his domain below.

Pulling his hand free from her chest he let her body fall to the floor, blood seeping onto the carpet like paint on a fresh canvas. He pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket to clean his hand of the girls blood.

A great pain in his head alerted him to the fact that Pauline's summoning spell had worn off. It was such a shame that they hadn't done the spell correctly, as they had used Pauline's heirloom and not Timothee's; that would've changed all of this and the dead teenage girl would still be alive. But then again, this man wasn't the one who summoned demons in his free time was he?

He thought about leaving the body, but instead called a lesser demon to dispose of it, knowing what his next move was.

The man left the room and walked down the hall and stopped at a closed door; listening for what lied inside. He heard soft snores and one heartbeat, probably the mother. He used just a pinch of dark magic to spell the room silent, not wanting anyone to disturb him if things with Timothée went wrong.

The last room at the end of the hallway was the one he was looking for, the one that held the boy he craved beyond any explainable reason.

He had heard the boys soothing voice in his realm, a spell summoning a demon with the promise of a soul for an eternity of servitude; he had killed three demons that had tried to come through, he wasn't going to let anyone else take what he had deemed _his._

The mans hand touched the wooden door, nails digging shallow graves that would never come out and leaving his aura embedded into every pore.

He decided the best way to introduce himself was to simply walk in; which is kind of what he did, if you counted walking _through_ the door as walking in. And hail Satan he was greeted with a sight.

Timothée was on his bed naked as the day he was born with his hand stroking his pale cock up and down, his thumb occasionally rubbing the reddened head that was weeping copious amounts of precum that was just begging to be licked up.

The boys pale chest was breathing in an uneven pattern as his hips started twitching in a sweet seductive motion, breathy moans filling the air. The man couldn't help himself and glided across the room to the bed, dropping to his knees and engulfing the pale cock in his mouth in just one gulp.

Timothée nearly screamed when a warm wetness covered his cock and he opened his eyes to see a man on his knees bobbing his head up and down. He knows he should've screamed for help or tried to move but found he didn't want to. He _wanted_ the man to keep sucking him off as if he could suck suck out his soul through his cock.

Timothée came with a cry, hips jutting violently into the mans mouth as he sought that sweet warm heat that seemed to take every drop he had to offer.

The orgasm laden boy spoke 'Jesus Christ' softy as the man pulled off his cock, licking his lips seductively, "I prefer Armie."

Timothée didn't have time to ask what in the hell was going on for Armie surged forward and practically devoured his lips, eating any moan and piece of wet flesh he could reach. His hands scrambled up and touched every piece of the younger boys naked chest, twisting pink nipples and running his fingertips over the soft skin of his ribs.

Timothée was swimming in his own head as the man named Armie touched him in ways he had never been touched and brought forth moans from deep within his chest that made his cheeks burn. Armie moved like water, sliding down the boys chest with soft kisses, briefly stopping at the wet cock to kiss the sensitive head, then lowly lifting one of the sweet supple thighs that hid what Armie could only guess would be a tight heat.

The tight puckered hole that Armie could only hope was untouched was just waiting to be filled by his cock and only _his_ ; he smiled at the primal possessives over the boy and lowered his head till he was a hairs away. Armie knew that with a snap of his finger he could have himself naked and the boys hole wet and ready, but he wanted to take his time opening him up and making him cry for mercy.

Timothée gasped when the wet appendage breached his hole, trying his best to not clench around the encroaching piece of flesh but he didn't know what else to do.

" _Relax….Timmy…."_ A warmth spread up Timothée's thighs and he felt himself go limp, allowing the other man to feast on his now wet hole, tasting everything there was to offer. Armie used a hint of magic on himself, lengthening and widening his tongue as to make Timothée 's hole seemingly sopping wet.

It was only when Timothée came a second time with tears running down his cheeks did Armie stop and sit up, gazing at the nearly broken boy. But he wasn't finished yet.

Timothée watched as what looked and felt like magic lifted him up and pressed his chest against Armie's, his face so close to the older mans.

"Can I fuck you?" For Armie to ask such a vulgar question with such a sweet tone shocked Timothée but he said,

"Yes please." It was all Armie needed to grab the slim thighs and lift the boy up onto his hips, his own cock finding the wet hole and surging forward, grunting at the wet heat. He wished he would've been slower, given Timothée slow sweet kisses as they made love, but that would happen later. Right now he was fucking his hips up into the boy as if ecstasy itself lied in his core.

His arms released Timothée as fell back onto the bed, and Armie lifted his legs onto his shoulders for leverage to fuck into the teen at a faster pace.

"Are you mine Timmy? Do you give yourself to me?" Timothée could barely understand the questions being asked, only responding with a broken "Yes more please!"

Armie growled and leaned down into the boys throat, mouthing at the white skin, "Tell me you belong to me. I need you to tell me you're mine."

Timothée spoke through tears, "I'm yours. Only yours." His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he came, his cock shooting come across his erratic chest as fireworks erupted under his skin. Armie was still fucking into the wet hole, a hand placed on Timothée's chest to keep him in place as he found his release.

He came with a roar and with a speed kin to lightening, bit down on Timothée's neck, marking him as his, a bite mark that wold surely never disappear and show all that this boy was taken.

He pulled his cock free with a squelching sound and smirked at the come leaking onto the sheets, knowing he would teach Timothée that come wasn't something that was ever wasted. A rare smile graced his lips as he noticed that the boy had fallen asleep, his young body having been fucked much too hard.

The demon let out a yawn and curled the snoozing boy into his chest, letting out a yawn of his own as a bought of drowsiness entered his vessel. He let sleep overtake him as he closed his eyes, dreaming sweet dreams of sweet Timothée.


	10. A Thousand Years

1348

His name was Armand.

He was born in the village of Crest Hill, population 59. Now there may have only been a small number of people, and they were quite secluded from other villages, but nothing could stop the sickness that was the Plague.

When word of a disease like death was spreading through the continent with no cure- it struck fear into peoples hearts. They turned to God; most saw it as an act of punishment and others saw it fit to take their own life before the disease could.

No one could run from it- there as nowhere to go anyway. Armand could remember the day it hit the town; He had watched as Beatrice from two houses over ran from her home, screaming that a sickness like no other had taken her parents, and she was next.

The boils that had covered her skin and the vile smell of death on her breath had terrified everyone- the Plague had come.

It had struck Armand in the night; he had awoken with his limbs feeling as though muscle was turned to metal and flesh to that of sand. He was disgusted as he watched his own body turn against him.

He had watched from his window as bodies were piled at the edge of town and burned, the sickness in their corpses to contagious to remain anywhere but in the flames. His parents had fled, seeing as Armand was destined to succumb to his death and the town was paying the same price.

He had cried when they told him of their plans to flee like cowards but matter it did not, you couldn't outrun death.

Armand didn't take their betrayal to heart and laughed in hysterics as they left him, mouths covered as to not let the curse enter their bodies as well.

His mother said God would save him, that God would lead him into the light and that the rest of his days would be filled with joy and pleasure.

His father told him he would burn. Just like everyone else.

He spent his last days alone in his home, watching the rats run across the wooden floor and the birds sing from his window. They were his company; they hadn't left yet like everyone else.

It was two days later that he knew he would die; he could feel his lungs failing, every breath a cough that left blood trailing down his chin.

Was it wrong of him to wish that dying didn't hurt this much?

Armand looked out the window at the flaming corpses, knowing that he would be joining them soon, hating that his father was right.

He would burn.

Night fell and Armand struggled to stay awake, barely able to move at all, tears streaming down his wet cheeks as he felt his body failing. He didn't want to die; he didn't want to do this alone. He wanted to be held by his mother, given a forehead kiss by his father, be given something.

"You are not alone my childe."

If he were able to move, he would have jumped as the sickeningly sweet voice wafted through the room.

A figure stood in the doorway; a silhouette Armand could barely make out. He assumed it was a man, the figures loud footsteps bringing him closer and closer. The figure loomed over Armand, large hand reaching out and wiping away the blood on his chin. He hadn't even noticed he was still bleeding.

The figure knelt down next to Armand's head, and his wet eyes turned to watch him.

He was beautiful.

His skin was white, his lips redder than any apple he had ever seen, and his black eyes looked as if they saw everything and nothing all at once. He was terrifying and mesmerizing.

Armand spoke in a shaky whisper. "Are you death?"

The figure chuckled as he shook his head, "I am not Death my son. I am..." The figure stopped speaking, as if he was unsure of what to say.

The figure leaned in closer, mouth at his ear. "Do you wish to be saved Armand? I can take the pain away and give you more than you could ever imagine. I can give you life." It took him a moment to nod, and the figure smiled.

He smiled with a sinister look and opened his mouth. Black veins appeared under the being's eyes, as his teeth grew long and sharp, his face becoming that of a monster.

Armand whimpered like a little boy, wishing for his mother. "I don't want to burn." The man sighed with a sad smile.

"We all burn."

With speed faster than a bullet, the figure tore into his own wrist and let the blood drop into the dying man's mouth, watching as his tongue licked up the sweet life source. The monster pulled his wrist away and smiled at the young man's bloody face. "You will be reborn Armand. I will teach you everything when you wake. There is nothing to fear."

Armand didn't have any time to question the demons words as his head was turned when a sickening crack and everything just stopped.

The creature of the night that had made Armand a vampire was named Jonathon Hammer.

When Armand had awakened, he had been cold and frightened and covered in dirt- this wasn't right, he was supposed to be dead but he was instead healthy as ever, and thirsting for something he couldn't quite place.

He had awoken in a grave, in the cold hard dirt that seemed to be crushing his lungs. He crawled his way out and breathed in the sweet air, trying to calm his racing heart. His eyes searched the area, stopping on the figure of the man who he had seen before this moment, though he seemed to look happy as ever. He held his arms open.

"Come to me Armand. Let me be your guide."

Jonathon was kind; he was unlike his father. It was as if they were night and day.

He taught Armand everything he needed to know about being a vampire. There were some perks that made Armand smile; he could look into a person's eyes and take their memories, or simply make him do as he pleased. He was stronger, faster, but silver could have him down in a heartbeat.

It had been hard at first- being a vampire that is. It was different and it was scary but it was also something new. It was strange not to need food or sleep, to never feel cold or warm.

Armand had many mistakes in the beginning; He killed the first time he drank blood.

He had been a teenage boy-tall and lanky with dark tresses that fell to his shoulders in waves like a cocoa sea. He had smiled at Armand, a sultry look that he hadn't been able to resist and before he could think his fangs had been planted in the boy's supple neck as his hands gripped the boney hips.

The boy didn't struggle for long, his squirms and quiet whimpers turning to silence as his heart stopped.

Jonathon had told him that mistakes happened. That they would hide the body and it would pass, as all things do. But they had yet to realize just what they'd done.

It would be many years later that he would pray the price from killing the child of a witch.

1648

Her name had been Christina.

She had been a beautiful woman with long blonde blocks and full breasts that moved with her every breath. Her slim waist and full hips attracted every male in town, but she only had eyes for Armand.

He had said to himself that she was a sweet girl, that she was just lonely and who was he to deny her?

He had admitted to his maker that her blood smelled slightly foul, and Jonathon had said, "Never trust what you can't eat."

He'd scoffed at Jonathon's words and had approached Christina, falling for her sweet voice and sultry look.

She'd grabbed his hand and dragged him down the empty streets to her home, locking the door behind her with a desperation he'd never seen in her eyes. He'd stood in the middle of the living quarters, watching as she held out her hand so it faced his chest, mumbling words under her breath.

Even with his vampire hearing he was unable to discern the words she spoke and was ready to flee before an enormous pain erupted in his chest, forcing him to his knees.

He tore at the layers covering his skin, wanting to rip the pain out just to make it stop but it just kept burning. He screamed for help, hoping his maker would feel his pain but no one came to save him. He felt as if his flesh was burning from his bones, as if the only way to ease the pain was to crush his skull between his hands, or rip his heart out.

Her hand lowered and the pain stopped. Unneeded gasps rang through his chest as he tried calming himself, a snarl forming on his lips as he looked to Christina.

"What have done to me?" She laughed as he stood, trying to appear more menacing than he was.

She pursed her eyes and spoke in a deep tone, "Funny of you to question my actions when all I have done is restore peace to my Wiccan ancestors and the hurt you have bestowed upon them." She paused and tapped a pointed nail against her chin. "I did what others were too weak to do themselves, and after tonight, you shall never be free."

Her eyes pierced his and he unwillingly fell to his knees.

"I have summoned the power of my brothers and sisters and placed a mark on your soul that will follow you to the True Death. I've taken from you the one thing that even a devil like you is destined to collide with; a soul mate."

She leaned down and spoke in a whisper and placed her hand on his un-beating chest, "As long as they breathe air and you do not... you will both burn in hell."

He watched as she disappeared, eyes watering with bloody tears at her horrifying words. He stood and left the building with remarkable speed, searching for his maker through their bond. He spoke a mile a minute when he found Jonathon, the older vampires forehead creasing in worry.

"My dear Armand you have been cursed, just as she said. I have seen this before and you should be very afraid. The words that witch spoke will come true, and it will tear you apart."

Armand was confused. "What will happen to me?" Jonathon looked distraught.

They both sat down as he explained to his son, "Every vampire has their one Armand, and she has taken yours from you in the cruelest way you can imagine." A single red streak ran down the Makers face, "I have seen this before Armand, and only death will set you free."

Jonathon stood and made to leave but a hand on his leg stopped him, "But she said as long as he breathes... what if I turn him? Would the spell break?"

"Would you be so cruel as to turn your soul into one of us?"

He stood once more and made for the door, turning to look at his son one last time.

"I will mourn for you Armand."

Armand felt bloody tears fall down his cheeks as he heard his maker's words. He didn't want this, any of this. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do.

1889

Armand met Tim Chalmette at the opening Gala for the Completion of a new building in New York. It was one of the tallest buildings in the state so far.

Armand didn't know why he went to the Gala; he had barely been out in the sunlight if he really thought about it.

Jonathon had left him a while ago, claiming that his time as his tutor was over and Armand needed to go out and pursue a life of his own. One of the many gifts he'd given over time had been a ring that granted the power of a Day Walker, meaning he could be a man of the sun and the moon. It had been his greatest gift.

He'd left with a fleeting kiss, and he hadn't heard from him since. He missed him, as a son would his father.

But any thoughts of Jonathon had left his mind when he had spotted the man, barely a man if his lithe form said anything, named Tim Chalmette.

He was pale; his skin could be a portrait of the moon if he were to be honest, and the smooth looking flesh calling to Armand in a way he had never felt before. His long limbs moved like water down a stream and his eyes, the lovely chocolate color that he wished he could drown in, were enticing beyond belief.

He was tall, his head came to Armand's shoulders and he found he liked that he didn't have to look down so low to gaze upon such a beautiful creature.

Armand wanted to hide him away from the rest of the world, to put him in a gilded cage and be the only one able to hear him sing.

An ugly grotesque creature inside his chest roared with a sudden possessiveness over the man, wanting to hold him close and bite right into the spot under his neck and mark him as his. He wanted to make sure the world knew Tim belonged to him.

But he didn't do any of that. He instead walked over to Tim and the man, who seemed to be telling some story and just said,

"Hello."

Tim's eyes darted to his, a smile stretching across his mouth and words of welcome leaving his lips. Armand didn't actually hear any of the words that were being said for he was too focused on the deep sweetness of the man's voice. His teeth were large and a bit crooked but Armand only thought about sticking his tongue down that supple throat and having a taste.

A hand waving in front of his face brought him out of his mind as he looked at the worried face inches from his own.

"Is he ill?"

"Could be a bit slow..."

Armand smiled and shook his head, "I was lost in my thoughts friends, no need to worry." He held out his hand, "I'm Armand Hammer."

"Great to meet you Armand. I'm Tim, my friends call me Timmy." He let out a small laugh that made his eyes crinkle.

Armand wanted to see that crinkle more.

The other man spoke, "I'm Jacob Wells of the Wells Foundation. This is my father's building and I was just here telling Timmy about the time my father got his nose caught in a lobster's claw, you really had to be there to understand." He laughed to himself and Armand knew exactly what to do.

He looked into Jacob's eyes and held his gaze, speaking in a calm voice, "You look a little parched, I think you need a glass of champagne."

He broke his gaze and Jacob let out a laugh. "Ha! Would you look at that, I feel a bit parched. I'll help myself to some champagne."

Jacob walked off with a laugh and left Armand and Timmy alone.

Armand could see Timmy grow nervous, he ringed out his fingers and bit his bottom lip, eyes darting around the room.

"Do you want to get away from here for a bit? There's an ice cream shop just around the corner." Timmy gave him an enormous smile and nodded his head furiously, a few strands of hair falling into his eyes.

Before Timmy could try and move them Armand's hand lifted and carefully pushed the hair behind his ear, loving the flush on his pale skin.

They didn't speak and Armand could hear the rapid heartbeat in the man's chest, loving the speedy tempo that he hoped didn't slow down.

They walked out together; Armand could hear the whispers as a few people watched their backs, nasty words spewing from their mouths. His arm went over Tim's shoulder, a move he knew would only feed their fires of hatred, but he simply led him out of the Gala and down the street.

It became a routine for a while, Armand visiting Timmy.

He would visit at night typically. Tim was a college boy and he loved his classes. He did poetry and read it to Armand. It was almost as beautiful as him.

They spent most of their time talking. Armand spoke of his travels, he was forced to lie anytime Tim preened for answers about his family, for they had been long dead, but he spoke of the beauty of the Earth, of the things he wanted to give Timmy if he had the chance.

It was unspoken between them, the fact that Armand would rest his hand on Timmy's thigh when they watched a moving picture. Or when Armand would caress his cold cheek on a winter's night, as they would feel each other's breath on their lips. They never kissed, but Armand would give everything to just feel his lips on his.

He wondered if they warm as warm and soft as the flesh on the back of his hands.

He had come to pick up Timothée, Timmy had said with a smile that he wanted to be called by a different name and he couldn't tell him no.

He had looked at his watch as he waited, noticing that it was getting quite late, and Timothée was never late. He knocked on the door again, calling his name again, wondering if he had fallen asleep.

He smelt the blood after walking a few blocks away from Timothée's apartment.

He smelt so much it made his throat burn and his fangs grew longer as he imagined drinking in every drop that had been spilt. He looked around the street, making sure no one was in sight, before moving into the alleyway, closer to the strong scent of sweet sweet-

Timothée

Armand felt his heart break as he looked into the dead eyes of Timothée Chalmette, his body beaten and bruised with blood covering his chest, various puncture wounds in his white suit, though it was no longer white, instead a horrifying deep red that was spreading rapidly.

He had been holding flowers, and he'd styled his hair the way Armand liked. But Armand heard no heartbeat, and felt his die a little inside.

Blood tears rained down his face as he held the cold body close, wishing this wasn't real.

"Oi! Guess the faggot had a lover!" A jovial voice yelled from the edge of the alley and Armand felt himself grow hot with anger.

A few chuckling voices rang through the alley and Armand could hear every word. They'd seen Timothée with Armand, they'd watched them, waited to get either of them alone, and had beaten Timothée to near death before mercilessly killing him and leaving his body in an alley way.

He barely felt one of them try and grab his shoulder, presumably to turn him around and punch him, but Armand felt nothing as his hand reached into the man's chest and crushed his heart between his hands, ripping his hand out as to let the man drop dead.

He barely felt himself kill the four other men, but he did.

He didn't drink a single drop of their murderous blood, instead letting it stain his skin and clothes, a sign that he was a killer, but he didn't murder an innocent boy. None of them were innocent.

He laid a kiss on the skin of Timothée's forehead, leaving a bloody mark, and fled.

It took years for him to realize why his maker would mourn for him, for if he had to do this again, he would not survive.

1989

Armand changed his name to Oliver.

He liked the sound better. That was a lie but he felt he needed a change. He left the Americas, deciding on Europe. He thought the sun would do him so good.

A lesson from Jonathon, who he still hadn't spoken to, was that 'loneliness could kill the strongest warrior.'

He had made plans to stay with an Italian family, The Perlman's, in Crema. He had never been to Italy, but he knew it had to be better than anywhere he had already been.

He arrived in Crema in the summer. It was breathtaking. There wasn't a single dull sight in the vast glory that was Cerma.

The air was fresh and smelled of peaches and apricots. The father, Mr. Perlman picked him up from the train station.

He was a nice man, loved to talk but he was kind nonetheless. He spoke of the things they would be doing, talking about expeditions and understanding foreign art. It all sounded a tad boring but maybe Oliver needed something boring for a bit.

The Villa was gorgeous, and his wife welcomed him with a smile. He had barely put his things down before he saw him. It wasn't Timothée because he had held his dying corpse all those years ago who was this imposter?

It was Mr. Perlman's son.

Elio.

Not Timothée Chalmette.

But he was, in a way.

His hair was much shorter and he was much younger, maybe sixteen or seventeen years of age. But his face was still that of moonlight and his teeth were still crooked when he opened them to say 'Hello'. His chocolate brown eyes were still enticing as ever and Oliver wanted to bathe in them once more.

Oliver watched as Elio moved forward to shake his hand, loving the feel of the boy's smooth skin on his own.

He had missed the feeling of his skin more than he thought.

Elio led him to his room; he watched his red clad back as he walked up the stairs, wanting to memorize every movement this boy did. He could tell this had been Elio's room; he could smell him on the sheets.

He watched Elio move around the room and point various things out, where the bathroom was and what the ringing bell meant. He barely listened; just watching Elio was enough for him.

Oliver flopped on the bed when Elio left, breathing in the scent of Elio, the very essence of Mr. Perlman's son. His white knuckles held the sheets as he stuffed them in his face. He could just picture Elio's smooth skin against the soft sheets.

He rutted his hips against the sheets, his cock having come to life at the thought of someone just like Timothée back in his life. He was just down the hall yet so untouchable.

For the first time in a long time, Armand felt alive.

And so, help him God, nothing would tear them apart.

* * *

Oliver liked him, and as if fate would have it, Elio liked him as well.

And strongly enough, he was so different from Timothée, but he loved him nonetheless.

He liked the spunk, the way he said things. He spoke with every word yet nothing was ever conveyed. He was an open book, yet he hated to be read.

They had spats, but Oliver could practically smell the want and near desperation coming off of Elio every time he talked to him.

He'd told Elio that he'd needed to pick up some papers, and was ecstatic when Elio wanted to tag along. They'd biked into town, side by side, and Oliver was glad when they stopped by a Monument, he didn't care what it was but was glad they were together.

He nearly scoffed in a playful tone- he loved to rile the younger boy-when Elio looked at the Monument and started speaking about its history.

"Is there anything you don't know?" He lit up his own cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke. He liked the way Elio showed off his knowledge, yet would deny his smarts a second later.

"I know nothing Oliver." The way he spoke made Oliver frown.

"You seem to know more than anyone else around here."

"If only you knew how little I know about the things that matter." It was like a game of cat and mouse with Elio. The younger boy hung the string in front of him, and waited for Oliver to rear his shoulders back and pounce.

"What things that matter?" Oliver was willing to the play the cat, if only for the satisfaction of catching the mouse.

"You know what things."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I thought you should know."

"Because you thought I should know?"

"Because I wanted you to know?"

Oliver watched Elio inhale his cigarette and followed the smoke as he breathed it out.

Elio spoke in a whisper, "Because I wanted you to know."

But Oliver heard.

Oliver watched Elio walk around the Monument speaking the same words 'Because I wanted you to know'. They were like a mantra, the confirmation to Oliver that Elio wanted him too and a near invitation to take his body and do as he pleased.

It was not as if he didn't already know, but this obvious declaration made his fangs tremble and cock harden. He hadn't fed in so long, instead somehow surviving on human food though always craving blood.

He wanted him and it made Oliver's heart soar through the clouds and dance through the wind. He couldn't wait to remove the boy's clothes and fill him deeper than he'd ever been filled.

He wanted to destroy every ounce of innocence lingering on Elio's skin.

* * *

Jonathon once told him good things never last, that everything that was gold would turn to dust at some point.

He hated when Jonathon was right.

He had slept with Elio. He had put his hands on the young man's pale skin and had slipped them under his baggy Tees and high waisted pants and had just felt.

He had memorized every curve, every knob and bone that his hands had smoothed over and he would give everything to relive that night.

The days had turned sour as he felt Elio's hesitation whenever their eyes met, could practically feel the boy's uncertain feelings over the love they had made. He wanted to tell him that it was all right and that everything could go back to normal, that nothing had to change.

He needed to convince Elio that they were meant to be.

But things only became worse. And it started with a phone call.

Oliver had been walking downstairs with the intention on getting a glass of that delicious apricot juice that Mafalda, the woman who kept the house in top shape, seemed to always have an endless supply of when he heard the phone let out a Ring!

He slightly flinched at the loud ringing as it penetrated his ears, though shook it off as Anella made her way into the kitchen to answer the call.

"Ciao?"

"I'm sorry is Armand there? I was told I could reach him here?" Oliver's head turned, eyes piercing as he watched Anella furrow her brow.

"No, no I don't know any Armand-" Oliver cut her off and with immaculate speed was next to her, hand on her shoulder.

He grabbed the receiver and covered the bottom half, whispering "Sorry, middle name." Anella smiled and walked away, picking up a peach on her way out.

Oliver returned his attention to the telephone, "How did you get this number?"

"Jonathon had this as his emergency number. Is this Armand?"

"Yes this is Armand-" He looked over his shoulder to make sure he was alone, "Why are you calling me?"

He heard the person on the other end sniffle, "Jonathon is dying."

Oliver felt the receiver slip out of his hand and hit the floor once before bouncing with the attachment of the cord.

Time stopped for a moment in Oliver's world. He couldn't hear anything, couldn't smell, couldn't see anything because Jonathon was immortal, vampires didn't die yet he had just been told that the one who gave him life was about to lose his.

"Hello? Hello? Armand? Are you there?" He barely felt himself fall to his knees and grab the receiver saying that he in fact was still there.

"He wanted to tell you but he was scared-"

" **Where is he?"** His voice was a guttural growl that he would normally apologize for, but he had every right to be furious beyond belief.

"He said he is in his home...waiting for you." He tried to calm himself, to think rationally. "I fear he does not have long. He refuses to summon you; he doesn't want to bring you back into his life like this but I had to tell you. Come if you wish, but... he is running out of time."

The click of the receiver jolted Oliver back to life, and…

Bloody tears welled up in the corner of his eyes; he didn't know if he was nearly weeping for his maker, his beloved Jonathon, or if his tears were for Elio and the life they could've had. Every thought he'd had of a future with Elio vanished as thoughts of Jonathon rang through his mind; He tried to think that maybe he could come back after... No he couldn't think for a future without his maker.

He knew what he had to do.

His steps were silent as he gripped the banister on the walk to his room, his body felt like it was near collapse but he couldn't rest.

His hands found the suitcase, stuffing in every pair of summer shorts and billowy top he had packed- not even caring that he had promised to give one to Elio- eyes searching the room for any other piece of himself.

He may have been a vampire with hearing for miles on end, but he had not heard Elio coming to the door.

"I just wrote this new piece I want to show you- oh... what are you doing?"

Oliver could see the range of emotion on his face; first was happiness at prospect of sharing his hard-written music with a man he cared for, then confusion- probably at the sight of himself packing his clothes away, then anger- at himself or the luggage in question well he couldn't quite say, then sadness.

"Is it me? Did I-Did I do something wrong? Is that why you're leaving? It must be…" He sniffled in between his words, and Oliver found he couldn't look the boy in the face.

"It's not you Elio-"

"Liar. I know it is. If we hadn't slept together-" The words were stopped so suddenly as Oliver used his extreme speed to appear in front of Elio, the wide eyes full of water staring at him with an emotion he hated to see directed at him.

Fear.

His hand was shaking as it reached up to cradle the pale-faced boy, "I love you Elio. I love you more than you know and knowing you has made me so happy. But I have to go, and I don't know if I'll come back. But I don't want you to think it was you." He placed a kiss on his forehead and moved away, but Elio wasn't ready to say goodbye.

"I'll wait for you. I promise I will. I love you Oliver." Bloody tears fell down Oliver's face as watery ones fell from Elio's. They stared at each other as sadness wafted around the room. He watched as Elio leaned forward and kissed his lips just one last time.

Oliver pulled back to look him in the eyes.

"I love you Elio, and it's because I love you that I-I-I can't be selfish with you." He knew he could let Elio wait, but he knew Jonathon's death would break him. He knew what he had to do.

He let out a sad sound of laughter wishing it wasn't so. "God I wish you didn't have to forget this… But you do."

He was gone in a flash of blonde hair and bloody eyes, standing outside the Villa where he had fallen in love a second time with a young boy named Elio Perlman.

He had taken the boys memories of their previous conversation- all Elio knew was that he had walked upstairs, eager to tell Oliver about a new song he would never hear, but had opened the door to an empty room.

Oliver could hear Elio yelling his name and it took everything in him to not respond, and he didn't. He turned away from the Villa, walking down the gravel path away from Elio, and away from Oliver.

He was Armand again.

And he'd lost it all a second time.

~Two Days Later~

It felt strange to be back in Crest Hill, though the town was now called Rosegate. Everything had changed; the Town Hall was now a thrift store and his old home was a park. He felt no remorse for his old home; he had hated it all in life and death.

It was quite simple to find Jonathon's home, as it was where he had woken up after being turned.

The house had been fairly modernized-, as there seemed to be a fresh paint job and the lawn was well kept.

Knock!

He tapped his foot impatiently and repeated the action.

Knock! Knock!

He was mid knock when the door opened and glared at the solemn looking women hidden behind the door. She peeked out a bit, looking back and forth, before opening the door and ushering Armand in.

It was quite dark inside- Jonathon had always preferred the night- and he felt the woman grip his hand and tug him alone.

"He is refusing to eat." It was the same woman from the phone, but he still didn't know why she knew Jonathon.

She seemed to read his thoughts, "I'm Ismelda, and I take care of the house and feed Jonathon. But after his... accident, he refuses to eat, he has secluded himself. He needs you Armand."

They arrived at a door and he watched as she knocked on the door and walked away, presumably not wanting to deal with a difficult Jonathon.

A beat passed before the door creaked open, it was only for Armand's superior sight that he could see his maker but frankly he wished he hadn't.

Jonathon looked, to put it quite simple, dead.

His skin-, which had once been as soft as silk, and paler than chalk -was now greyed and vein filled, the signs of death as prominent as Ismelda had spoken before. He truly did not have long.

His once smooth chestnut hair had colored to grey, and his once stormy eyes were filled with unclean bloody tears of pain and hurt.

"You should not have come." He pushed his way inside the room, nearly backtracking when a smell like no other hit him in the face. It was putrid, like rotting flesh on a summer's day.

"What have you done to yourself master?" Jonathon chuckled. "Nothing that I do not deserve my childe."

Armand found the light switch. He flipped it, eyes finding the nearly disfigured form of the man who had made him who he was. He could clearly see the injury now.

His leg had been torn off. How the older vampire had even stood to answer the door was something he would never understand.

The rotting discolored flesh was hanging off the thigh that had previously been connected to a leg. It was grotesque, but Armand had yet to understand how it was killing him.

"A werewolf bite, on the right night, can be quite lethal to our kind. That I have lasted this long is shocking to say the least. I had heard horror stories of the pain to come..." Jonathon let out a bloody cough and nearly fell to his knee if not for Armand quickly catching him.

"How long have...?" He sighed. "Two months."

"Is there no doctor, no witch who can help you?" A solemn chuckle was high response. "How do you think I have lasted this long Armand? A witch, up until now, has been supplying me with something close to a remedy for the toxin in my blood. But I am still dying."

Armand didn't know what to do.

Jonathon closed his eyes as he smiled, "I was planning to call you a very long time ago, to tell you something you needed to hear. And I fear you will curse my name for what I have done to you."

Armand moved his weak maker to the bed in the corner, sitting him down. "Nothing you do could ever make me hate you. You've given me more than I could ever want."

A shaking hand reached for his face, cradling the cold cheek. "I have failed you Armand." His hand retreated from the younger vampire's face, reaching into his coat pocket and gripping something quite small in his weak hands.

"A long while ago, long after I'd left you, I met a witch..."

"Christina. What a lovely name." Jonathon watched the young blonde-haired witch sit down on the couch in his living room. She reminded him of Armand, both blonde and full of life.

"And how may I help you Christina?" He took a seat, crossing one leg over the other.

"I am looking for forgiveness Master Vampire. I feel as though you are the one who can give it to me."

His brow creased as he spoke with question. "What forgiveness would I give to you? I don't believe we have crossed paths."

Her hands twisted in her lap, lip biting as she breathed deeply. "I may not have met you, but I believe you know of which the man I speak."

"She was looking for redemption. And she gave it." He pulled out his hand and shakily opened his fist. "She gave me..."

"What is it?" She held out her hand, a red vial in her palm. He looked at her, then the vial again.

"It will make him human, if he wishes it so, as it will break the curse that I placed on him many years ago. I wish I could do more, but I cannot." The morose look on her face was the only reason he didn't kill her.

"Will you give it to him? Please?"

"...A cure."

"Did she say why? Why she felt she needed redemption?" Jonathon shrugged his thin shoulders. To question such a gift would be looking a gift horse in the mouth.

If Armand still had the ability to breath, he would have lost any air in his lungs. Jonathon had had a cure this entire time, and had kept it from him.

An intense rage ran through his core, wanting nothing more than to tear his maker apart, to turn back time and free himself of this curse and live a life with Timothée, one where he had felt true happiness.

But his anger depleted as he watched his maker shake with sadness as he held out the tiny red vial, bloody tears streaming down his face.

Armand was almost glad Jonathon was dying, for he would never forgive him for this. Jonathon had once said he would mourn for him, now it seemed it was Armand's turn.

Jonathon Hammer died 2 days later with Ismelda by his side.

Armand had been long gone.

2007

It had been a strange thing to Armand, to watch vampires make themselves known on to the general public. To come into the spotlight and show off their fangs; how foolish.

Though it had come to a surprise to see the new 'look' these vampires had. The only physical aspect that showed their vampirism was the massive fangs that came down with a click.

It seems they had adapted; Armand still looked at himself with disdain as veins appeared under his eyes and his fangs lengthened.

He truly was frightening.

The blonde-haired woman on the television had claimed it was simple adaptation at its finest; the new look of vampires made it easier for them to appear human and, as many religious people believed, lure in innocent prey. He held in a laugh as he fingered the daylight ring on his finger-it was the one advantage he had, as it seemed sunlight was no longer an option for them.

A final sip of his whisky-mixed with a hint of AB- for a kick- and he was up and moving, deciding to visit the local bar in the small bumfuck town he had relocated to.

It had been hard after Jonathon's death; he had contemplated his own death as he had fingered the vial in his hands. He was alone in this world yet he hadn't found the strength to simply stake himself and end it all. He was staying alive and waiting.

He had all the time in the world to wait for the next one. It had taken a few years to realize that the next Elio or Timmy wasn't going to just walk up to him and smile so brightly. He needed to get off his ass and find him- his fingers gently fondled the bottle in his pants pocket- so he could end this.

He shot a look at his car before deciding that a walk would do him good.

It took nearly thirty minutes to reach the only bar in town and put on his best human smile as he walked in. People stared, they always did but he assumed it was due to his monstrous height, and he ignored every look in favor of sitting at a booth in the far corner.

'Hm, you see that handsome beefcake who just walked in I ain't ever seen his fine ass before'.

He made sure to make eye contact with the women who had been speaking about him in such a crude matter, and kept a straight face when she winked at him.

"Welcome to Merlotte's, what can I start you off with?" He hadn't noticed the waiter walking up to his table, and felt his word stop when he looked into his eyes. He quickly regained his composure and made sure to speak in a nicer tone.

"A glass of red wine would do me just fine." He wanted to ask his name just so he had a reason to hear his voice again.

"Sure thing sir. I'll be back with it in a moment." The waiter whose nametag said 'Timothée' walked off to the bar, where an angry looking man stood and wagged his finger at him.

Armand listened in on their conversation, sneering as the bar owner belittled Timothée into thinking that the 'very obvious fanger who walked in' was bad news.

The shifty bar owner wouldn't know bad news if it hit him in the face.

He watched Timothée shake off this 'Sam' and walk back to him with his glass of wine, and of course with a smile on his face.

"And your red wine sir. Will that be all?" He stood baring a smile, crooked teeth and all.

Armand didn't know what came over him but he found himself saying, "What time do you get off?"

His pants grew tighter as a blush covered the waiters' cheeks and he wanted to bad to just have a taste of his sweet blood. But he prided himself on being a civil vampire and would lure this boy into his bed. It was the matter of him leaving that would never happen.

"Uhm-I'm sorry- Uhm I-I-" He took a deep breath to catch himself, "I don't normally get asked out at work."

"I don't normally ask people out."

Timothée gulped and quickly turned back to look at Sam, turning forward once he saw that beady glare thrown his way. He turned back to the man sitting in the booth with a glass of red wine.

Timothee thought there was something about him that just... It was like he already knew, that he knew he could trust him. So, he took a leap of faith.

"I get off in thirty minutes. Enjoy your wine sir."

And it was a looooooong thirty minutes.

Both men felt a sense of urgency to be around each other; Armand wanted to throw the boy onto the table and fuck him within an inch of him life, and Timothée wanted to lay down his arms and let his legs hang wide open for that man to do as he pleased.

The clock finally struck 6:30 and Armand was out of the booth and out the door with Timothée hot on his heels. Timothée walked to his small beat up yellow car and smiled at Armand, nodding at him to get in, which he barely could.

"My place or yours?"

Armand threw him a devious smile. "You have neighbors?"

Timothée shook his head.

"Then yours. We're going to need all the space we can get." Timothée gulped and started the car, driving down the dirt road to his home.

* * *

Timothée threw back his head and grunted as it hit the wall.

He let out a desperate wail when the man between his currently standing legs gripped his thighs and placed them around his still clothed hips. He grinded his massive clothed erection into the younger boys free one, growling when a slim pale hand reached down and squeezed his cock.

"You just gonna stand there or are you gonna fuck me?" He'd barely finished the sentence before he was upstairs in his room and thrown on his bed, letting out a huff as he bounced.

Armand started pulling off his clothes, "Oh I'm not gonna fuck you. I'm going to have passionate, primal sex with you and not stop until you pass out. Maybe not even then." He used his vampire speed to pull off his pants and chuck them across the room.

Timothée's eyes widened and his breath hitched, "You're a vampire."

Armand snorted. "Was there ever any doubt?" He didn't give the boy a chance to even think of running before he was on him, looming over and holding him down.

The younger boy looked up with wide eyes as his heart nearly beat out of its chest. "I really hope you weren't thinking of running." Leaning down, his eyes rolled into his head as he breathed in the essence of Timmy and Elio, pushing them aside to relish in Timothée.

"Not like you couldn't stop me anyway." His eyes opened and Armand spoke in a harsh tone. "If you truly don't want this then go, I won't force you."

Timothée sat up slightly and nosed at Armand's cheek with a slight nudge, "There's something about you... what's your name?"

"Armand." Timothée snorted. "How old fashioned." He thought for a moment.

"Maybe, Armie? Sounds like some rich kids name though..." He giggled as Armand furrowed his brow.

"Hm. Armie. Armie Hammer. I like it." Armie smiled and looked into Timothée's eyes.

"Well Armie, there's something about you. Almost like I've met you before and I... I should trust you. Like you'd never hurt me."

Armie reversed their positions and sat Timothée on his chest. "I would meet the True Death before ever harming you."

"That's kind of intense Armie."

They stared at each other before Timothée made the first move and surged down, kissing the vampire's lips with a passion he didn't know he had. Their tongues fought for dominance though Armie quickly won that battle, hand sliding along the boy's naked flesh and up to his chest to finger the pink nipples that he found were quite sensitive.

He twisted them in his hands and growled at the moans that echoed in the room, his mouth leaning up to mouth at that supple neck, sucking to bring to blood to the surface.

His hands moved down, down to the boy's cock, gripping it in one hand and jacking him off at an impossibly fast rate, causing the boy to scream as he came all over their bellies, collapsing on the older vampire's chest.

"That-oh man- that was- oof- amazing." Armie grinned like a cat that caught the canary. "We've barely begun Timothée."

He flipped them again, this time with the boy's pale legs over his shoulders, leaving him exposed. He grabbed his thick cock and rubbed it against the tight hole, quickly going to the bedside table to grab a half empty bottle of lube that made them both chuckle.

He smeared the gooey liquid on his erection and looked into Timothée's eyes as he started to push in. "If we do this, you're mine Timothée. I'll do anything, kill anyone, and be everything for you. Will you be mine?"

Timothee felt a tear fall down the side if his face at the intensity of the vampire's words.

"I am yours."

His hips surged forward as he bit down on the pale neck; the pain of the stretch hopefully lessened by the pleasure of the bite. The sweet essence of life entered his mouth and he took gulp after gulp, quickly starting a fast pace with his hips.

Their moans were in tandem and their release was quickly found; bloody fingernails fell from Armies' back as his blood chin pulled away from the tired boys deeply breathing body.

"You ok?" He leaned down with wide eyes and smile when he received a weak "Me ok."

Armie tore into his wrist and let his blood fall into the boy's mouth, tying them together as one.

"Sleep?" was murmured from Timothée and Armie nodded, gathering the boy in his arms and resting against the headboard with the falling asleep boy.

"Tomorrow...?" HIs voice faded as he fell asleep but Armie understood. He would still be there in the morning, and the one after that, and the one after that. There would be many conversations about past lives and a cure for vampirism as well as a choice Timothée would have to make; to become vampire or have Armie become human.

But he pushed those thoughts away and held the boy to his chest and smiled as he closed his eyes. For now, it was just Armie and Timothée, universe be damned.

Tomorrow would be the start of a new life for them.

Tomorrow.

~The End~


End file.
